Pity the Child
by gietzeng
Summary: Stand-alone fic following Figlio Perduto. Quistis returns to her duties as an instructor while SeeD's enemies prepare to destroy the organization. R&R appreciated. (Complete) (Feb 13, 04: Revised)
1. Prologue

**Emergency punctuation warning! **When did that whole "we've suddenly decided you're using the wrong kind of section breaks" deal, not only did they take my nicely formatted section breaks, they **also **went into Pity the Child and stole my apostrophes! So now "I'm" has become "Im" and "they're" has become "theyre" and it's just... **horrible. **So you've been warned.

* * *

He exited the training center, still breathless, enjoying the burn in his muscles from the exertion of combat. Silence dominated Balamb Garden's main concourse, but he could feel the charge in the air. The impending field exam had every cadet in Garden on edge, waiting for the call to action. Squall savored the tension, remembering the feeling from his own cadet days.

He glanced around the concourse, finding it empty. He walked towards the dormitory wing, footsteps echoing around the sound of rushing water, when he heard someone running towards him.

"Hey!" yelled a familiar voice, and Squall turned around to see Zell barreling towards him at full tilt. "Squall! It's an emergency!" When he neared Squall, Zell slowed to a stop.

"Well, Squall, aren't you going to ask me what's going on?"

"You're going to tell me whether I ask or not, right Zell?"

"Good point," Zell replied. "Anyway, I've heard rumors that the field exam is today. Is that true? Is it? Because if it is, then the cafeteria is going to be nearly empty and _that _means..."

"More hot dogs for you?"

"Exactly!" Zell's face lit up as he marveled at his own brilliance. "I was just on my way to get my ID so I could grab an early lunch. You want to join me?"

"Yeah," Squall said, "I think I'd better grab some lunch before..."

Just then, the intercom sent out its distinctive chime. "Squall, please report to Conference. Squall Leonhart to Conference." The voice belonged to Xu, but Squall knew the message came from Cid. Cid, waiting to begin a conference about the upcoming exam, and Cid, irritated at Squall's attempt to dodge the meeting.

"Well, I guess I'll be skipping lunch, then. Sorry."

'That's okay. I'll eat a hot dog or four in your honor."

Squall offered Zell a quick nod in place of a goodbye, and made a mental note to find the person who informed Zell about the field exam. Thoughts of lunch forgotten, Squall headed for the center of the Garden.

A group of cadets loitered near the staircase, waiting, no doubt, to bombard Squall with questions about the field exam. Without answering any of their questions, Squall cut a path through the mob, relieved that he didn't have to wait for the elevator. He stepped on board and as the doors started to slide shut, Squall pressed a button and stopped the doors from closing.

"Since none of you have anything better to do, perhaps you'd like to take a lap around the concourse, top speed?"

As one, the students groaned in protest.

"Make it two laps, then."

Without another note of protest, the students turned and began to run. His point made, Squall let the doors to the elevator slide shut.


	2. Conference

"...I have, of course, received the signed contracts from President Loire and, in accordance with standard SeeD payment policies, he has transferred the necessary deposits into the appropriate SeeD accounts.  The contracts allow us absolute discretion, that is, license to take any measures available to us to fulfill the obligations stated on lines 23 through 50 of the contract.  Should we fail in the mission, or at anytime deem the expenditures of mission completion to outweigh the financial penalties, we will return the deposit amount, along with a penalty in the amount of 40% of the deposit amount..."

As the meeting wore on, Squall grew restless.  He had a mental list of all the things he needed to do before the exam, and Headmaster Cid's insistence on reviewing the terms of the contract eroded precious minutes away from his schedule.

"Next, I'd like to show you some statistics, incorporating the projected results of today's exam.  As you can see, the income from this assignment will more than cover the initial commissions of up to four cadets without seriously eroding our profit margin..."

Squall pursed his lips, admiring the wood grain on the table until he heard his name mentioned.

"...Which brings us to our report from Commander Leonhart."

Squall stood up and glanced around the room.

"If you'll look at your panels, you'll see the cadets I've picked for this mission, as well as the SeeDs who'll be overseeing them."  With that, he sat back down.  Squall found his mandatory presence at this meeting almost insulting, considering how much else he had to do.

"Are you certain about these cadets, Squall?"  Cid asked.

"Positive."

"Well, it seems that you've made some... unorthodox choices."

"Yes, sir.  They're the best choices, and we'll find four SeeDs among them."

*          *

"...As per usual," Xu said, continuing her instructions to the SeeD candidates, "this mission will consist of 4 teams of three candidates each.  The grading committee will select as many as, but not more than, four candidates to join SeeD.  Each team will have one squad leader who will report to a SeeD officer, who will be accountable to Field Commander Leonhart.  If Commander Leonhart feels the mission is in jeopardy, he will give the order to abort, which your squad leader will relay to you.  At this point, you will comply at once, and the SeeD officers will relieve you of your duty and complete the mission with all due haste..."

The tall blond in the back let the words wash over him -- at this point, he'd participated in enough field exams to recite the speech himself.  This time mattered more than its predecessors, though, as it marked his last chance as a cadet.  He'd failed every exam he'd ever taken, because the hidebound and dogmatic Garden faculty, showed more interest in preserving "team spirit."  Now, though, he had to pass.  Failure meant he would never join SeeD, something he couldn't bear to let happen.

Over the intercom, Cid began his speech, a lengthy recitation of platitudes about the honor of Balamb Garden.    After a few minutes, Xu, patience exhausted, entered a few commands into her handlink, the device allowing her mobile access to most of Garden's facilities, and the intercom stopped broadcasting.  Seifer envisioned Cid in his office, talking into a dead microphone.

With an air of cool detachment, Xu unsealed the envelopes containing squad assignments.  She had a startling aura of command, despite the fact that she was no older than most of the other SeeDs at Garden.  Seifer knew this, though, to be her "game face."  Xu proved herself at home exercising her brilliant logistical mind or playing cards in the Quad.  When she was off duty, she dropped her authority and looked pretty.  Her deep brown eyes always seemed to sparkle as though she knew the punch line to some private joke.  At that moment, though, she focused on her job, and her voice betrayed no emotion as it rang through Garden's lobby.

"Cadet Almasy, Seifer: Squad A leader."

Seifer sliced open the packet Xu handed him, and began barking out the names of the cadets under his command, trying to brush thoughts of previous field exams from his mind.


	3. Opening Ceremony

The briefing room saw the twelve candidates grouped around a long table, at the front of which sat a holographic array.  Squall stood in place, near the display screen.  Xu sat off to one side, watching the equipment lists scrolling by on a computer screen.  Every so often, she would make an adjustment, and somewhere within Garden's storage facilities, people would scramble to comply.  Against the back wall of the room stood the SeeD officers, pilots, and other mission personnel, waiting for Squall's orders.  The group filled the room a little more than he would have liked.  Even though he'd warmed up somewhat since becoming a SeeD, Squall still felt uncomfortable in large groups of people, especially in enclosed spaces.  He took a deep breath before speaking.

"All right, everyone.  Let's begin."  The display flashed a map, showing Balamb Garden's location, and the Centra continent.

"The Centra continent is currently the home of a group of pirates, who have been raiding all sea traffic in the vicinity.  6 hours ago, they hijacked a ship travelling from the Undersea Research Facility to Esthar."  The ship's path taking lit up, ending in a star at the point of abduction.

"President Loire of Esthar has informed me that this ship, code-named _Indomitable_ was carrying potentially dangerous technology, which the Esthar government is most anxious to retrieve.

"Therefore, we will be responsible for the infiltration of the pirate base and retrieval of the stolen technology."  The display zoomed in on the base, rendering it as a wire-frame in three dimensions.

"We will make an amphibious landing just north of the main base, and west of the pirate's primary docking facility.  Squad C will be responsible for destroying the dock and any pirate vessels stored there.  The _Indomitable_ will not be present, since the terrorists left everything in tact.  Likewise, there are no hostages.  President Loire assures me that every member of the crew escaped safely.  This will be a direct attack.  Leave nothing standing.

"The only aboveground entrance to the base is located in the north, so that's where we'll have to make our move.  Squads A and D will breech the main gate, while B secures the perimeter.  D will destroy the communications uplink, cutting the pirates off from any ships not on site.

"This leaves A to secure the route to the base itself, neutralizing all hostiles in the area.  Once I give the all clear, all candidates can evacuate, and the cleaning crew will move in.  Any questions?"  A hand went up.

"How many hostiles are expected?"  Squall glanced over at Xu, who punched up reconnaissance pictures of the base, with hostile forces in thermal colors.

"Early intel indicates that the ratio of hostile forces to SeeD candidates should be roughly 2 or possibly 3 to 1.  Given your training, it's nothing too difficult, I'd say."

Seifer stretched an arm into the air.  "What's the procedure for escaping hostiles?"

"Captain Nida Nomura will provide air support from the _Ragnarok_, with Irvine Kinneas manning weapons.  If everything goes according to plan, we won't need them at all."  Squall gestured to the back of the room, where Irvine leaned against a wall, more than a little noticeable as the sole person not in uniform.  As always, the self-styled cowboy wore his long duster and wide-brimmed hat, which hung down low over his eyes.  Nida stood next to Irvine, poised and polished in his SeeD uniform.  Nida also passed the field exam the year Selphie, Squall, and Zell joined SeeD.  Nida counted all of them as friends, but spent most of his time with the small coterie of SeeD members and candidates who shared his passion for aviation.  No one at Garden could out-fly him, and Squall never hesitated to call in Nida's services on a mission.

"Anything else?"  Squall asked.  No one voiced any further questions.  "Excellent.  Xu will coordinate the mission, I'll be on-site, and if any changes become necessary, we will relay the information to your squad leader as soon as it becomes available.  We leave from the dock in Balamb Town in one hour.  Good luck."


	4. Ritual Fire Dance

The battle raged all around Seifer.  It surrounded him and heightened all his senses.  The noise of gunfire and combat rang in his ears and kept him tuned to the tide of combat around him.  The closest pirate took aim with his rifle, and time, for Seifer, slowed to a crawl, as it always did during such moments.  He had time to notice the sunlight on the barrel as it swung toward him.  He saw where the pirate aimed and had time to step aside.  Seifer watched the bullet fly past him, noticing the ripples it left in its wake.  He stepped to one side and swung Hyperion up backhanded; gunblade met rifle and sparks flew.  Following through, Seifer brought the blade back down again, at enough of an angle that it bit into the pirate's neck.  One of Seifer's long legs lashed out, knocking the man to the ground.  Seifer then dropped into a crouch and whirled around, catching the pirate behind him by surprise.  A muffled report issued from the gunblade as it bit into flesh, cutting far enough into the man's side that Seifer could feel it connect with the spinal column; another pirate lay dispatched.

Seifer stood, turning to face the other members of his squadron.  To the two cadets in his squad, he seemed less like a man and more like a force of nature.  Back at Garden, he had achieved almost legendary status, but the students working with him did not expect the efficient machine before them.  They saw a blur, the sole participant in a choreographed dance.  The underclassmen panted, already tiring from battle, when he turned to them.  The minute they saw the resolve in his eyes, though, they stood at attention, ready to follow him into battle.  With his blade, he pointed towards the central building of the base complex and headed off without a word.

*          *

Squall stood by, watching the battle, part of him longing to join in the fight.  He couldn't feel comfortable acting as an observer, but the nature of the field exam demanded that the candidates prove themselves.  He turned away, going over the tactical readout of the battle, sure that he'd missed something.  For the first time, he noticed a small building to one side of the complex.  A tall antenna protruded from the top of the building, similar to the antennas on the other buildings.  This one, though, looked more advanced, reminiscent of the Communications Tower in Dollet, only more menacing somehow.  Squall's stomach sank as he realized the antenna's purpose.

"Shit..." he muttered aloud.  

Three squadrons advanced on the main building, their progress impeded by the hail of gunfire.  As they neared the compound, a high-pitched whine filled the air.

"Everybody scatter!"  Squall yelled, his message relayed to the cadets over the communication channels.  No sooner had he given the order than a brilliant red beam of light flashed down from the sky, leaving a smoking crater where, just moments before, one of the squadrons stood.

"We don't know when that thing's going to fire again! Nida, Irvine, whenever you're ready!" Squall screamed.

"Received and en route.  It's going to take some time, though, since I'm dodging anti-aircraft emplacements all over the place."

"Squall!"  Selphie called out, as she hurtled across the battlefield towards him, "Squall, this is not good!"

"I know," he replied, "those antennas are feeding our locations to a satellite cannon.  I should have seen it sooner.  Damn it!"  

"We have three squadrons pinned down!"

Sure enough, squadrons A, B, and D all stood trapped, crouching behind a small outcropping of rock, trying to keep their heads low to avoid the gunfire from the pirate base.  Seifer kneeled with them, teeth clenched, as he tried to think of a way out of the situation.

"There's only one way we're all getting out of this alive, Squall."  Selphie's inherent cheer vanished, replaced by genuine concern for the younger students.  The death of so many of Selphie's friends – killed in the missile strike on Trabia Garden -- wounded her, and she did not intend to let it happen again.

"I know, Selphie.  We have to take out that antenna.  You up for it?"

Selphie patted the nunchuku hanging at her side and smiled, grim satisfaction dancing in her eyes.  "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Xu," Squall said, "we've encountered a potentially dangerous situation.  Selphie and I are going to intervene.  I'll see if we can salvage the exam, but if not, I want the SeeD forces ready to go as soon as we get the cadets clear.  Please notify all squadron captains of this development."

"I'll get right on it, Squall.  Make sure you bring everyone back in one piece.  That goes for you too."  Squall tuned out the beginnings of Xu's announcement to the captains as he looked for the best way to access the antenna building.  Suddenly, Selphie's voice pierced the air.

"Seifer!" she screamed. "What the hell are you doing?"

Seifer began crossing towards the building, striding amid a hail of bullets, all of which fell to the ground, energy expended, as they encountered the magical shield he had created.  

Squall issued a set of hasty commands to Xu.

"Put me through on a direct line with Seifer.  It's urgent.  Once you've finished with that, scramble the SeeDs.  I want them to get the candidates out of here as soon as possible.  Have Irvine supervise the withdrawal on the transports, and we'll get out on the _Ragnarok_.  The mission is now a secondary priority."

Squall heard Xu reconfiguring the communications setup.

"Okay, Squall," she said, "you're through.  Do what you have to."

"Seifer.  Get back here, now."  Squall's voice came out clipped and terse as he spoke.

"Sorry, Squall.  No can do."  

"Listen very carefully.  This is a direct order.  I am speaking as field commander of SeeD.  Turn around now.  I know you want to help, but the _Ragnarok_ is on the way.  We'll take care of this once everyone is clear."

"That cannon has to come down now, and you know it as well as I do.  The _Ragnarok_ won't be here in time.  I'm going offline now.  Goodbye, Squall."

The channel fell silent dead as Seifer cut off communications.  Squall turned to Selphie, trying to think of a way to save his friend.

"Selphie, we're going after him."  She nodded and waited for Squall to give the signal.  When he did, they both hurtled across the battlefield, trying to ignore the bullets crashing into the ground near them.  On bursting into the building, Squall had little time to react as a blade arced out towards him.  Squall brought his gunblade up in a hasty parry and the two weapons met with a bone-jarring clash.  Squall found himself staring down the business end of a very familiar gunblade.

"Sorry about that," Seifer said, grinning, a mixture of guilt and amusement on his face.  "I was sort of expecting an enemy or something.  Anyhow, you kids here to help?"

"Yeah.  Any ideas on how we're going to shut this place down?"

Seifer turned to Selphie, asking, "You were the one who took out the missile base, right?  Can you do it again?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Good," Squall replied, "and Seifer and I will go introduce our gunblades to anything that looks breakable."

"It's not the most subtle idea you've ever had, Leonhart, but it sounds like as good of a plan as we're likely to come up with on such short notice," Seifer answered.

The three started causing as much havoc as possible within the small building.  Selphie pounded away on the computer while Squall and Seifer attacked anything resembling a power supply line.  Occasionally, they ran across one of the terrified technicians who operated the cannon.  The sight of the two scarred warriors, one fair and one dark, both glowering like gods of war, sent more than a few of them running in terror.

In a room on a lower level of the base, Seifer found a large room, with computer terminals lining every wall.  A pillar stood in the center of the room, with a glowing canister on top of it.  The national crest of Esthar adorned the canister, and a technician had just finished locking it down.  At Seifer's approach, the man ran to one of the terminals and pressed a button, causing a glass enclosure to descend around the canister.

The technician fumbled, trying to get his weapon out of a locked drawer.  He managed to free his pistol and raised it.  In that time, Seifer crossed the distance between them.  He raised Hyperion and, in one clean motion, sliced the man's hand off.  It fell to the ground, blood spilling everywhere, the man screaming in pain.

  
Seifer grabbed the man by the hair and dragged him towards the glass enclosure.  He stood the technician up, facing the glass, and slammed his face into the glass with brutal force.  Seifer heard a crunch as the man's nose shattered but despite a small spider web of bloody cracks, the glass held.  Seifer threw the man against the glass again and the cracks expanded, but the glass did not break.  Seifer snarled in frustration, gritting his teeth and ramming the technician into the glass one last time.

The satisfying sound of glass breaking rewarded his third effort, and he continued to push the man forward, breaking glass as he fell to the ground.  Seifer used the edge of his gunblade to widen the hole, and ducked into the enclosure himself.  He picked up the canister and headed for the stairs, leaving bloody footprints behind him.

*          *

"Okay, Selphie, what did you find?"

The brunette's face lit up with delight, mischief dancing through her emerald eyes as Squall approached.

"Squall," she said, unable to contain her glee, "you are going to love this."  She punched a few buttons and a gauge popped up on screen, detailing how much of the base's power fed directly into the cannon, and how long until it had enough energy to fire again.

"And?"  Squall asked, secretly wishing she'd found the self-destruct command instead.

"Just watch!"  With a few clicks, Selphie had taken active control of the gauge.  She slid the power to the cannon higher and higher, draining more power out of the solar cells up above.  Once the base fed the cannon two hundred percent of its normal energy allotment, the lights of the room dimmed.  At two fifty, the room fell almost entirely dark.  At three hundred, all the lights on the base died out except for the computer Selphie was using.

"Selphie, you're only charging the gun up faster.  That's not what we want!"

"Yeah, but I also found the targeting mechanism.  Let me put it this way: in a minute or two, you won't want to be standing here."

Squall almost missed her words, responding to a burst of static in his ear, "Seifer, what's up?"

"Well, I've got good news and bad.  The good is that I've secured the package."

"And the bad news?"

"The bad is that I can't get it out because it's pitch black in here, so turn the damn lights back on!"

Selphie laughed aloud, relieved that everyone was going to be safe.  "Why?  Is widdle Seifer afwaid of the dark?"

A few more taps of the computer, and the three of them headed back outside, Seifer carrying the canister over his shoulder.  As they cleared the threshold of the building, they could see the last transport speeding away.  The _Ragnarok_ circled overhead, having retreated out of gunfire range after setting Irvine down.

"Okay, Nida.  We're ready for extraction whenever you are," Squall said.

"The sooner the better," muttered Selphie.

The red dragon ship lowered itself to the ground, amidst gunfire from the pirate base.  Frustrated, Nida launched a few missiles in their general direction, sending the majority of the pirates running for cover.

"Sorry 'bout that, Squall.  My finger must've slipped."  Squall shook his head, knowing how much Nida enjoyed a chance to show off his aim.

"Understood, Nida.  Happens to the best of us."

Without waiting for the _Ragnarok_ to land, Squall, Seifer, and Selphie scrambled aboard.  Under Nida's skillful guidance, the ship sped forward, gaining altitude with every second.

"Request permission to bomb the hell out of them, Commander."

"Granted."

Nida let another volley of missiles fly at the base, but they vanished in the blast from the satellite, which destroyed the rest of the base.  Smoke from the charred remains of the base filled the afternoon sky; the _Ragnarok_ started to turn slowly eastward, towards the country of Esthar.


	5. Interlude

"All right, _Ragnarok_, the airstrip is yours."  Nida switched off communications with Esthar Airstation and activated the ship's intercom.

"Okay, kids, we'll be there in just a few minutes.  The Airstation has informed me that President Loire is going to greet us personally."  He chuckled after making this announcement, envisioning the scene in the passenger section of the ship.

*          *

As Nida predicted, his announcement threw Selphie into a complete frenzy.  She scrambled, searching for a reflective surface, trying to straighten her hair and clothes.  She snarled, an angry finger jabbing at the intercom button.

"Nida, you... how long have you known he's going to be there?"

"Oh, a little while...  Say, since we entered Esthar airspace."

"You bastard!  That was fifteen minutes ago!  You could have given me some warning!  When we get back, you are such a dead man!"

"Sorry, babe, but I can't talk now.  I have to make a good landing in front of the President.  Oh look!  There he is."

Selphie screamed in panic as and redoubled her frantic search.  Realizing the satisfaction her terror gave Nida, she sat down, attempted to regain her composure, and resumed grooming.

Seifer turned to Squall, raising an eyebrow at this behavior.  Squall held up his hand and shook his head, a pained expression on his face.  Seifer sat back in his seat and waited, amusing himself by watching Selphie's frenzy.

*          *

Squall walked down the ramp leading out of the _Ragnarok_, head held high.  Seifer flanked him as they approached the presidential party, and Selphie followed nervously behind.  They stopped in front of the entourage, and Squall appraised the scene with a cold gaze.

Squall's metallic gray eyes took in Laguna Loire, President of Esthar.  Laguna stood about an inch and a half taller than Squall, and had warm blue eyes.  His black hair hung down past his shoulders, and showed the faintest hints of gray streaks.  Laguna smiled -- an act that caused his eyes to light up and contract, so that he seemed to squint.  The lines at the corners of his eyes revealed that he made a habit of smiling.

"President Loire.  Squall Leonhart, field commander for SeeD reporting," Squall said, saluting his father as he spoke.  Laguna's smile widened as he watched Squall for a moment, before sweeping the SeeD into a large hug.

"That sounded so official!  Good to see you, son."  Squall's body started to rebel at the sudden contact, but he did his best to enjoy being in the arms of the father denied him since birth.

"Hi."  The two men stepped apart, but the warmth of Laguna's expression kept the moment intimate.  Laguna extended his gaze to include Seifer.

Holding out a hand, Laguna asked, "And Seifer, it's always a pleasure."

"Thank you, sir," Seifer said, bowing his head deeply.  During his travels before becoming President, Laguna worked -- for a brief period -- as an actor, always portraying the gunblade-wielding hero in a series of adventure films.  Seifer saw every one of the films in his childhood and vowed to emulate his idol.  Even now, Seifer's fighting style mimicked Laguna's stance in the movies, every one of which Seifer owned on videotape.  

More to the point, in the aftermath of the Second Sorceress War, Laguna stood almost alone in trying to protect Seifer.  Esthar's Senate pressured Laguna to execute the rogue cadet outright, but Laguna resisted, insistent on rescuing Seifer from Ultimecia.

"Seifer, I must confess, I do have one request of you.  Kindly step aside so I may feast my eyes on that _gorgeous_ brunette standing behind you."

Seifer stepped to one side, exposing Selphie, who stood hiding behind his much larger body.  When everyone turned to look at her, a deep crimson flush covered her from head to toe.  She immediately began focusing all her attention on the scuffed toe of her boot.

"I thought that was Selphie!  How are you today, my angel?"

Selphie looked up, about to speak, but on meeting Laguna's eyes, seemed to lose the power of speech.

"Come here, Selphie, and give me a hug."  She crept over to Laguna, trying to keep from looking overeager.  He embraced her, and then, holding her at arm's length, added, "How is it that you get more beautiful every time I see you?"

This time, an indecipherable series of squeaks issued from Selphie's mouth, a sound somewhat reminiscent of an excited chicobo.

"So what brings a stunning young lady like yourself into my humble domain?"  

Selphie, still trying to form a coherent sentence, let fly with another barrage of non-verbal noises, prompting Squall to interrupt by clearing his throat, signifying that he wanted to get down to business.  He found Selphie's fixation with his father amusing when parceled out in small doses, but it didn't take long for Squall to lose patience with the situation.

"Thank you, Selphie.  So, Laguna, about the mission..."

"Well, we've been handling things as well as can be expected, I suppose, considering that this whole situation has turned into a public relations nightmare.  There's this opponent of mine in the Senate... well, he wasn't always in the Senate.  He started out in the Army... or was it the Air Force...?  Anyhow, he doesn't like the fact that I don't come from Esthar originally, and thinks I might be a spy for the Galbadian government, although I've lived here for... how many years?  Let's see...  I'd been here seventeen when you showed up so..." Squall took a deep breath, looking for his opening, knowing that, if left unchecked, his father could talk through the well into the evening without even taking a breath.

"We recovered the technology intact," Squall blurted out.  Laguna kept on talking without even slowing.  __

"That's great!  Say, why don't you guys let the technicians unload it, I'll get us an escort to the Palace, and over dinner I can tell you about the time I..."

"I wish we could, but we have to get back to Garden.  The teachers are waiting on me so they can make final grade rulings for the exams."  Squall did his best to ignore the pleading in Selphie's bright green eyes.

"Okay.  Still, it was nice to see you.  I'll make sure Kiros gets your contingency payment deposited at once.  Will you come and have lunch with me next week?"

"I'll see what I can do."  Laguna administered hugs to all and as he talked, the SeeDs made their way back to the _Ragnarok_.  

Collapsing to her seat in the passenger section, Selphie looked out the window at Laguna's retreating form, still waving to them.  She sighed as he faded from view.

"You know, Squall," Seifer began, his face twisting into his classic smirk, "if this keeps up, Selphie could be your stepmother!"

Selphie turned bright red again.  Squall glared, bloodlust in his eyes.  Seifer prepared another jest, laughing, but thought better once he saw the look in Squall's eyes.


	6. War Stories

On returning to Garden, Seifer headed towards Zell's room to tell him about the exam.  Selphie and Squall headed to their respective rooms -- located across the hall from each other -- to shower and change clothes before joining the group in Zell's room for war-stories and pizza.  Outside the door to his room, Squall stopped and turned to Selphie, in the process of unlocking her room while singing at the top of her lungs.

"Selphie," Squall said, "you did a good job with that cannon back there.  We all owe you."

"Thanks!" she exclaimed, grinning at Squall and winking, "You didn't do too badly yourself, hotshot."  Squall smiled gently back at her.

Inside his room, Squall's answering machine indicated that he had several messages.  First, a reminder notice about the annual SeeD Ball, the welcoming celebration for the new recruits.  The second, a long, tedious message from Cid, reminding Squall to contact the Adjudication Committee regarding the exam.  Third, a quick note from Rinoa.

"Hi, Squall...?  It's me.  I guess you're out doing the field exam thing.  Listen, I know how important the whole SeeD Ball is and everything, but a thing came up with my father.  I have to hop a train back to Deling City to deal with it, so... umm...  I'll be in touch.  Okay, hon?  Sorry again.  Love you!"

Squall removed his uniform jacket and fell backwards on the bed.  In its way, he considered the ball important.  Squall and Rinoa first met at the SeeD Ball on the night of his inauguration, so every year, the dance served as an informal anniversary.

Still, Squall reasoned, Rinoa's love for sentiment ran deep, and she wouldn't have left without a good reason.  Attending to the complex relationship with her father fell under the rubric of "a good reason."  Besides, her train had already departed, so he couldn't even talk her out of it in the first place.  Without giving it further thought, he stood up and turned on the speakerphone, placing a call to the committee.

*          *

Seifer swung the door to Zell's room open to find Zell sitting cross-legged on the floor, finishing the last in a large pile of hot dogs, their wrappers strewn everywhere.

He jumped up, exclaiming something vaguely recognizable as the word, "Seifer," crossed the room in a few eager strides, and bounded into Seifer's arms.

"Let me guess," Zell said, wrapping his arms around Seifer's neck, and kissing him on the cheek, "having recently conquered the Centra continent, you've come here to throw me on the bed and have your way with me."  Zell made no effort to disguise the note of hope in his voice.

"Almost, but not quite," Seifer said, abruptly pushing Zell onto his bed and stretching out in a chair, yawning.  Zell sat upright in his bed, lower lip quivering in a parody of concern.

"What, don't you find me desirable any more?"  Zell sounded on the verge of tears.

"Two things, Dincht.  One:  I'm as tired as hell after that exam.  And, two: your breath positively reeks of hot dogs."

Zell's eyes widened in mock-terror.  "Don't ask me to choose between the hot dogs and you.  You know I couldn't handle that kind of pressure."  Seifer tilted his head back and laughed.

*          *

After concluding his report, Squall took a fast shower, alternating between hot and cold water, pushing the limits of his tolerance at each end.  The contrast reawakened his senses and invigorated him.  As he finished dressing, he heard a distinct knock -- the sound of small fists banging in rapid succession on the door.  This indicated that Selphie stood outside, ready and waiting to go.

Squall opened the door and, without missing a beat in the song she was singing, Selphie pulled him into the hallway and slammed him up against a wall.  "Covering them" with the imaginary gun in her hands, Selphie closed the door to his room, and motioned him to follow.  Squall sensed her relief at the successful – and safe – conclusion of the mission and checked the impulse to roll his eyes at her.  She managed to keep the game up all the way to Zell's room, ducking around corners, returning fire at imaginary attackers, even somersaulting past a crowd of thoroughly confused junior cadets.  By the time they arrived at Zell's door, Selphie's action scene reached a feverish pitch, involving airborne assault from several airships.

As Zell opened the door, Selphie darted around him, vaulted over the bed, hurled Seifer to the floor as if to cover him from fire and bounced back up to take aim at the invisible assassins standing behind the complacent Squall.  Thoroughly used to Selphie, no one so much as batted an eye.

"Glad you two made it safely," Zell said, "seeing as how the hallway is so fraught with peril."

"Jerk," Selphie muttered, flopping into a chair.

"So, Selphie, where's your other half?"  Seifer inquired, "Irvine too good to party with us?"  A cloud crossed over her face for a brief moment, stunning in its contrast with her normal cheer.

"No, he thinks that this is a 'SeeDs only' thing.  He's been pissy lately about not being a SeeD.  He thinks he doesn't fit in because he's not 'one of us.'  So, he's ditched me for the evening and gone to Balamb to get drunk.  He's even standing me up for the dance."

"That's idiotic!"  Seifer exclaimed.  "We never would have gotten everyone out today if it hadn't been for him, right, Squall?"  Everyone turned to Squall, whose expression remained inscrutable.  He had retreated somewhere deep within himself, and his gray eyes had taken on the color of the sky during a thunderstorm, a sure sign of his deep thought. 

"Anyway," Zell said, eager for a segue, "how did the exam go?  I've been waiting to hear about it, but this loser," Zell pointed a thumb in Seifer's direction, "wanted to wait until you guys got here to talk about it."

At this, Selphie's eyes lit up again.

"It was so cool!"  She exclaimed, launching into story with unmatched enthusiasm, even providing the sound effects when needed.  Her version of the events, while accurate in the material facts, overplayed the visit with Laguna.  In between slices of pizza, Selphie acted out the events of the field exam, dragging her unwitting friends into the demonstration with her.

"Damn.  Now I wish I'd gone," Zell said as she finished her story.  "Sounds like you guys got in some high-quality ass-kicking.  How do you think it went, Squall?"

"Fine," Squall said, nodding, his mind still far away, "everything went just fine."  

Seifer rolled his eyes.  "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Squall.  I'm sure the other candidates will be thrilled at your appraisal of their work."

"Oh my gosh!  Squall!  Look at the time!"  Selphie exclaimed, running all her words together into one.  "It's almost time for them to announce the results!  We have to go!"  Selphie leapt out of her seat and grabbed Squall by the hand, pulling him out of his chair and his reverie.  As she pushed Squall out the door, Selphie turned to Seifer and winked.

"We'll see you in a few, Seifer.  And I'm sure it'll be good news."

As they walked down the hallway, Selphie turned to Squall and asked, "So, what's wrong with you?  You're awfully distant, even by your standards."  Squall paused for a few second, considering his response.

"It's just that... well, I got a phone call from Rinoa.  She's not going to the SeeD Ball.  She said she had to go see her father."

"I get it.  And you're sad because this is sort of like your anniversary."

"That's partly it.  The other thing is that it's weird, what with the timing of Irvine's decision not to go and all."

"Oh, come on, Squall.  Nothing's going on and we both know it.  It's not like Rinoa and Irvine haven't had plenty of time to cheat on us if they really wanted to.  You just worry too much, that's all!"  Squall opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say anything, Selphie burst into another high-volume song, cutting off all argument.


	7. Hell Freezes Over

Seifer stood in the lobby of Cid's office, waiting with the other cadets who'd passed the exam.  They'd stood in the lobby, waiting for Cid, for a full thirty minutes.  Seifer had spent many hours of his life in this lobby, waiting for an audience with the Headmaster, but he had never waited with such glee.

This time, he stood awaiting official inauguration into SeeD, an event he'd anticipated most of his life.  After many years of dashed hopes, he felt somewhat taken aback when the instructor called out his name as one of the four passing cadets.  In the end, Seifer passed, as did two students from Selphie's squadron, and one person from D squadron he didn't even recognize.  Seifer didn't come back to reality until he heard Selphie's whoop of joy.  

The elevator chimed and its glass doors slid open.  The high-pitched sound served as a signal for the cadets to snap to attention.  Cid and Squall stepped off, cutting a path through the lobby and directly to Cid's office.  The Headmaster had his nose buried in a report and didn't notice the cadets waiting to see him.

"Sir?" Squall asked from the doorway, trying to point out the cadets to Cid.

"Oh, yes," he replied, stepping back towards the door.  "Good work, everyone."  He glanced up long enough to confirm the presence of four live bodies before grabbing Squall's arm and guiding him into the office.  The doors closed behind them, leaving the puzzled cadets to stare at each other in bewilderment.  After a few minutes, they opened again, and Squall exited.

"Normally, the Headmaster would conduct the inauguration, but he's busy at the moment.  So, congratulations to all of you."  He started passing out the scoring sheets from the field exam.  "If you have any questions about your grade, please consult your instructors.  Dismissed."

Squall stood at attention and saluted the cadets, and they responded in kind.  The other three turned to the elevator, while Seifer stood and faced Squall.  Seifer didn't speak until he heard the doors close behind him.

"What the hell was that?" he snapped, looking at Squall with fire in his eyes.

"I'm sorry?" Squall replied.

"That thing.  With Cid.  Just now.  Has he _always_ treated the new recruits like this?  Or am I just special?  He couldn't bear to admit that I passed the exam, could he?"

The elevator chimed and Squall turned, crossing the lobby.  He held the elevator door open as he waited for Seifer.  Once Seifer entered, Squall pressed the button for the second floor.  Squall looked out over the concourse, until Seifer's arm reached out of its own accord and pressed the "Elevator Stop" button.

"Damn it, Squall!  Just get this little game over with."  Squall cocked his head, as though curious at Seifer's outburst.

"You're paranoid, Seifer.  Cid's in the middle of some important business, and he's just distracted.  Oh, and you haven't looked at your grade report yet."

Seifer glanced down at the grade report, wrinkled in his clenched fist.  He smoothed the paper and looked over his scores.

What Seifer saw astounded him. 

"These... these are my numbers?"

Squall nodded.

"I did _this_ well?"

Squall nodded again, adding, "In fact, your overall score is in the top five in the history of Garden."

Seifer blinked several times in succession.  Squall reached past Seifer and started the elevator again.  

As Seifer stared at his file in amazement, the elevator reached the ground floor.  Squall stepped around Seifer and patted him on the shoulder.

"Glad to have you aboard," Squall said.


	8. Waltz for the Moon Redux

Squall stood in his dorm room, looking at himself in the mirror.  He enjoyed occasions that let him wear his dress uniform.  He spared a quick glance at the array of medals and insignias that now decorated his jacket.  Straightening his uniform one last time, Squall turned off the lights in his room and stepped out into the hallway.

Selphie stood there, in uniform, waiting for him.  On seeing Squall, she took him in from head to toe, whistling in half-joking appreciation.

"Hey, there, hot stuff" she said, "you look good.  If I'd known that the direct approach worked on you, I would've hit on you before Rinoa ever had the chance."

"Thanks, Selphie," Squall replied. "Is there a particular reason, though, why you're lurking outside my door?"

"Well, technically, I'm lurking outside _my_ door, but since our respective companions have decided to be leave us on our own, I thought I'd give you the honor of being my escort to the dance.  Plus, I figured you were probably just going to sit around and mope all night, rather than actually going.  Another five minutes and I was going to break down your door."

Selphie's instincts proved unshakeable. Every bone in Squall's body wanted to close the door to his room and lock it behind him, not speaking to anyone until Rinoa called.  Selphie, though, had no such instinct.  Instead of moping at Irvine's childish behavior, she resolved to have a better time without him.  Because of her small size and cheerful nature, many people considered Selphie a child, and treated her like one.  Beneath the shining eyes and welcoming smile, though, lived a woman of surprising strength of character.  

Without waiting for him to offer, Selphie took his arm, and the two headed off towards the dance.

*          *

The SeeD Ball took place in Balamb Garden's ballroom.  Seifer had seen the room itself before, but never under operating conditions.  The evening following a field exam, though, the massive crystal chandeliers had their dust covers removed, signifying the start of the elaborate preparations the ball required.  

The chandeliers, candles lit, hung overhead as Seifer and Zell picked a table that looked out across the whole room.  From there, they could take in all the dancing couples and, beyond them, the night sky, illuminated by a brilliant full moon.

Seifer crossed the room, reeling from the giddy excitement of the evening.  The dance proved as spectacular an experience as he'd imagined it would be.  For years, he had dreamt of this night, when he'd finally be able to attend the SeeD Ball, and now it had arrived. Best of all, he could share it with Zell.

The marble floor clicked under his feet as Seifer approached the table, champagne glasses in hand.  Zell stood with his hands folded over the back of a chair, watching Seifer's approach and smiling.

"Is there something you find amusing, Zell?"  Seifer asked as he set the glasses down.

Zell looked at the statuesque man, marveling at how striking he looked in the uniform of a SeeD member.  It made him look even taller than he normally would and the gold trim appeared to match the color of his hair.  Shaking his head, Zell replied, "I'm just watching you enjoying your night.  I'm glad it's finally here.  Zell moved in closer and began picking imaginary lint off Seifer's immaculate uniform.  Seifer wrapped his arms around Zell and looked down at him.

"Is this just a cheap trick so you can put your hands on me?"

Zell tilted his head upward.  "So you'd like me to stop putting my hands on you?"

"Did I ask you to stop?"  Seifer began to move his face closer to Zell's.

"Okay, you two!"  Selphie's voice cut through the crowd, breaking the moment.  "You need to be at least six inches apart!"  She bounded through the crowd, dragging Squall with her and threatening to dislocate his arm in the process.  The candlelight of the chandeliers set off her jade eyes, making them twinkle as she smiled.  "Boy, Seifer, you look _great_ in that uniform!"

"Thanks, Selphie," he answered.  "It took me long enough to earn the right to wear the damn thing."

"And you did earn it," Squall said.  "The grading committee decided to inaugurate you before I even called to speak to them."

"You know what we need, Squall?"  Selphie asked.  "Drinks!  I'll go get us some champagne and we can drink a toast to SeeD's brightest new member."

As she dashed off, Zell called after her, "Yeah, and then we'll drink a toast to Seifer!"

Seifer gave Zell a brisk shove to the chest, sending the shorter man back into his chair.  Taking no more notice of Zell's comment than that, Seifer took his own seat at the table, asking Squall, "So where's the princess this evening?"

"She had to run off to Deling City all of a sudden."  Squall lowered himself to his chair, trying his best to sound unconcerned with his girlfriend's sudden departure.  Seifer, who dated Rinoa sometime before she met Squall, nodded.

"Another one of those delightful dramas with her father, I suppose?"

"Sounds like it," Squall answered.  "She didn't really go into detail, but she did mention her father."  Neither Seifer nor Zell looked surprised.

Just then, Selphie's laughter resounded throughout the ballroom.  As one, Seifer, Zell, and Squall turned to see the source of Selphie's excitement.  At the other end of the room, Selphie embraced Quistis.  Selphie pointed to the table where the three men sat, watching, before continuing her quest for champagne.

Quistis crossed the room with even, measured strides, and smiled at her old friends.  Like Seifer, the SeeD dress uniform complemented her nicely, the black standing in stark contrast to her fair complexion.  As she approached the table, one hand reached up to brush a strand of her long honey-colored hair back and out of her face.

"Hello, my dears," she said, her voice melodic, "how are you this evening?"

The three rose to greet her.  After warmly embracing Zell and Squall, Quistis paused, taking in Seifer's lean form.  She reached up to hug him, and with a quiver of nostalgia in her voice, said, "I suppose it was just a matter of finding the right teacher."

Knowing Quistis's penchant for self-criticism, Seifer looked intently at her.  Two sets of blue eyes met and, holding her by the shoulders, he said, "I _had_ the right teacher.  I just didn't realize it."

Her eyebrow arched, rising up from behind her wire-frame glasses.  Slowly, she cracked a smile.  "You can be so charming when you want to, Seifer."  Stepping back from him, she looked at Zell over her glasses.  "I pity the person who has to try and keep you in line."

"Excuse me, everyone?" Cid called out over the crowd.  "May I have your attention please?"

The conversation came to a halt by stages and everyone turned to Cid, standing at the front of the room, his wife Edea at his side.

"First of all, I'd like to congratulate our newest SeeDs on a job well done.  You did a splendid job today, and I expect to great things from all of you."

Polite applause filled the room for a few moments as the guests acknowledged the SeeDs.  Cid waited before quieting the assemblage once more.

"Tonight is an especially important evening.  As you know, since the unfortunate... incident with Garden Master NORG, we have been without a Garden Master.  I'm especially grateful, as I know we all are, for the extra work Xu has put in to cover this gap."

Once again, Cid allowed the applause for a few moments before resuming his speech.

"However, all that comes to an end this evening.  I'm very happy to introduce our new Garden Master, Yvaine Mallis."

Cid and Edea stepped aside, presenting the newcomer to the crowd.  He stood behind them, hands clasped behind his back.  He wore a dark uniform, the same shade as the SeeD uniform.  He wore it without decoration, save for a red braid hanging from his right epaulet.  A courteous smile crept across his face as the applause traveled the room.

"We'll have a formal introduction later in the week, but I thought I'd give General Mallis the chance to meet with some of you in a more social setting.  Other than that, everyone, enjoy the party!"

"His speech was mercifully short, for once," Seifer said, still smiling in the Headmaster's direction.  His lips never moved as he spoke.

Selphie, ever the human tornado, rushed up to the table, dragging Xu behind her. In her other hand, she carried a tray with several glasses of champagne on it.  She put the tray down gently and released her grip on Xu.

"You, sir, are in very big trouble," she said, turning to face Squall, feigned anger in her voice.

Squall cocked his head at her.  "What did I do wrong?"

"You broke the rule about sharing."

Squall didn't react, unsure of the appropriate response.

"Any new information must be shared with me, or there will be punishment."

Squall glanced around the table.  Zell shrugged.

"Sorry, man.  It's the rules."

"I was told to keep this a secret, and I did," Squall explained.

Selphie shook her head.

"Now, because I happened to know this particular tidbit, and because I'm in a good mood, we'll make this fast."

Her right arm lanced out, landing a fast punch on Squall's shoulder.  Squall winced, surprised at the sting.

"Let that be a lesson to you.  Henceforth, you play by the rules like everyone else."  She winked and pushed a glass of champagne in his direction.

Xu smiled and turned to her long-time friend, asking, "So, Quistis, where has Cid been keeping you?"

"First he had me doing diplomatic work," she sighed, taking a glass of champagne when Xu passed the tray around.  "You know, negotiating with Esthar to open its doors, helping settle the peace accord between Galbadia and Timber, that sort of thing."  She swirled the champagne around in the glass, watching the bubbles, as she glossed over her exile.  Cid hadn't even allowed her to keep in contact with her friends.

"That was you?"  Seifer asked, incredulous.  Seifer and Squall knew all about the Timber liberation movement, both through Rinoa and through the Sorceress affair.

"Yeah, that was me.  Important work, but not terribly exciting.  I was glad I got to be a part of it, but after that, I went on loan to Trabia Garden."

"You were at Trabia?"  Selphie asked.  "How is it doing?  How is everyone there?  What does it look like?"

Quistis grinned at Selphie's eagerness.  "It's great.  Everyone did a great job rebuilding it.  In fact, a bunch of your friends gave me their contact information and orders to make sure that you call them."

Selphie sat back in her chair, pleased, before asking, "So what was it that you did there?"

Quistis leaned forward, enjoying the tale.  "Well, after the attack on Trabia, they needed teachers, and since I'm qualified to teach here, I'm also qualified to teach at any of the other Gardens.  So..." She waved her hand, letting the gesture complete the thought.

"Cid sent you over there to _teach?_"  Zell blurted out before anyone could think to stop him.  For his efforts, though, he received a number of harsh glares and a kick under the table from Seifer.

"Ah, but it gets better, my friend.  After teaching a few classes there, Trabia's Garden Master was so impressed with my results that he said I could be headmistress of the Garden if I wanted to.  Yet another person laboring under the delusion that I'm some kind of genius."

Quistis smiled at this.  Even as a child, she'd never believed her own reputation.  The fact that everyone called her "gifted" or a "prodigy" meant nothing -- Quistis saw nothing but mistakes, unacceptable mistakes, at that.  She strove constantly to purge herself of her flaws and took herself to task when she failed.  Losing her position as an Instructor hurt her, and she almost didn't recover from it.  When pressed, Quistis could admit that she "might be kind of smart, but not exceptional."

"I thought about accepting his offer, and I almost did, until Cid, under duress, made me a better one, so here I am."

"Offer for what?"  Xu asked.

"Offer to resume my duties as an Instructor.  Plus, I made him throw in some concessions and return me to active duty.  No desk work."

"What made him fold?" Zell asked.

"I don't know for sure, but my theory is that while I was on loan, I still technically belonged to SeeD.  If I did anything to harm SeeD, Cid could oversee the punishment.  If I accepted the full-time position at Trabia, Cid couldn't claim to own me anymore.  And I know enough about SeeD to be problematic.  Thus, he was willing to do whatever he had to in order to get me back.  So I made him pay through the nose for the privilege."

Everyone reacted with considerable surprise.  Quistis sat back in her chair, glee registering on her classic features.  Selphie stood, "All right!  Seifer's a SeeD and Quistis is an Instructor!  I can drink to that!"

Everyone agreed on the toast, drinking, "To Seifer and Quistis."

"I hope I'm not interrupting," came a voice from the side.  As one, the group turned and found the new Garden Master approaching their table.  He stood just over two meters tall, and looked down at everyone through one piercing blue eye.  In place of his left eye, an empty socket stared back; no flesh had grown to cover the missing eyeball.  Everyone stood to salute him, and he smiled back at them.

"Please," he said, "there's no need to be so formal.  Cid pointed you out to me, so I thought I'd come over and introduce myself."

Mallis shook hands with everyone, greeting them all warmly.

"Well, Commander Leonhart," he said, after the introductions, "I'm looking forward to working with you.  Cid praises you quite highly."

"Thank you, General Mallis," Squall answered.

"General of _what_, exactly?" Zell asked.

"Well, I've been soldiering most of my life.  I started out in Esthar's army, but left and started a little mercenary operation of my own.  We were called Omega Dawn, but you've probably never heard of us.  We certainly weren't on a par with SeeD, but Cid figured that I might as well hang on to the title here. I assure you, it's strictly honorary."

"You'll be assuming duties soon, General?" Xu asked.

"Yes," he replied, "so you'll be able to rest a little more easily.  If you can spend a few hours bringing me up to speed on everything, Xu, I should be in full control by this time next week."

"Thank you," she sighed, looking as if a he'd removed a great weight from her shoulders.

"Actually," he said, looking at everyone, "I hope you'll all be able to help me.  You folks know a lot more about Garden than I do, and I'd appreciate your input.  I think it's important that we keep perspective: make sure the SeeDs run the show.  If we keep on doing things simply because they've always been done, we're in trouble.  So if you could, you know, stop by my office or leave me a message or something when you have an idea, I'd appreciate it."

Everyone nodded their assent.  Mallis quickly leaned in and whispered low, a wry grin on his face.  "Look sharp, everyone.  The boss man is on his way over."

"General Mallis!" Cid exclaimed as the General stood back upright.  "This is where you ran off to."

"Yes, Headmaster, I was just chatting with your star pupils."

Cid took his glasses off and began wiping them on his shirt, laughing.  "They aren't my students any longer, I'm afraid.  They're all full-fledged SeeDs now.  Every one of them."  Cid looked to Seifer and smiled.  "I haven't congratulated you yet, Seifer.  I can't tell you how thrilled Edea was to hear that you passed."

Seifer smiled widely, at this news.  "Thank you, sir."

"Now, General Mallis, I have to borrow you for a second," Cid started leading Mallis away, "I have a few more people I need to introduce you to..."

"He seems nice enough," Selphie said.  "What do you guys think?"

Zell's eyes followed Mallis across the room.  "I don't like him."

"What?" Selphie shot out.  "Why?"

"I don't know," Zell nodded, confirming his own judgment.  "There's just something... I don't trust."

Everyone gave Zell another long, pitying look.  "Okay!  What did I say this time?"

"I think what they're implying, Zell," Seifer whispered, placing a hand on Zell's arm and leaning close to him, "is that you haven't always been the best judge of character regarding your enemies."

"Still," Zell said, watching Mallis from across the room.  "I just don't trust him. "

*          *

Quistis looked out to the terrace, where Squall stood by himself, drink in hand.  He stared off into the distance, completely lost to the world around him.

"Hello?  Quistis?  Cards?" Xu said.  With Seifer and Zell off dancing, Squall brooding, and Selphie trying to round up recruits for the Garden Festival Planning Committee, Quistis and Xu had nothing to do but indulge in a few hands of cards.  On occasion, they received a few odd looks from other people at the ball, but everyone who knew them knew they both carried their cards everywhere with them.

"Cards?  Oh.  Sorry," Quistis replied.  She set down the last card in her hand without even looking at it.  She already knew the outcome of the game.  Xu's skill carried her almost to the championship of the Garden, but she always lost to Quistis.

"You win.  Again."  Xu dropped her last card on the table.

"Are you surprised?" the blonde asked.  

"No," Xu answered, "you _always_ win.  I mean, how many games have you lost since you moved to Garden?"

"Five."

"Exactly.  And all five of those times, you lost to the same person."

"Yeah," Quistis sighed, looking out to the balcony again.

"Quistis?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to stare all night or are you actually going to go talk to him?"

Quistis turned, propping her chin on her hand, not bothering to brush a wayward strand of hair out of her face.  "Does it show?"

"To someone who's watched you pine over him since you were ten, yes, it shows.  Just go talk to him."  Quistis opened her mouth to protest, but Xu cut her off.  "I'll be fine.  Go!"

Quistis slid her chair back and walked to the terrace.  She paused at the door, trying to sound nonchalant, saying, "You must really like this terrace."  Quistis heard her voice threatening to betray her and she strove to keep it in check.

"What do you mean?"  Squall asked, without turning to look at her.

"Just that, it seems like, at every dance, I find you out here by yourself."

"I had to get out of there.  Too crowded.  I need to think."

"About?"

"Rinoa."  Quistis found herself glad Squall hadn't turned to look at her, for she felt herself wince.  "What about you," he asked, deflecting the inevitable question.  "What brings you out here?"

"Well, you know I...I've never really fit in to the social scene here.  I just felt out of place in there."  Quistis almost smacked herself, mortified at her awkward confession.  To her surprise, Squall turned around, nodding in contemplation.

"I suppose we've always been alike in that way.  We've never totally fit in.  You've always been too smart for your own good, and I..." His voice trailed off in mid-sentence.

The barrier almost dropped.  He'd almost confided in her.  For a second, she could see the person he'd worked so long to hide away.  In that one instant, when his mask slipped, it seemed like she saw his face for the first time. Quistis wanted nothing more than to know what he almost said.

"Nice night," Squall said, steering the conversation away from him.  Quistis felt her heart sink as Squall's shield went back up.  

"Squall..." Quistis ventured.  She paused, though, steeling her nerves, preparing herself to speak the words she'd left unsaid for so long, the words she'd buried underneath a thousand excuses and rationalizations.

"Squall...I...I...was wondering if you'd like to dance...?"

She swore inside her head, cursing herself for her cowardice.

Squall shook his head with determination.  "No.  I'm not going back in there.  Not for a while, at least."

Internally, Quistis collapsed.  If he wouldn't even dance with her, after all they'd been through together, what hope could she have for anything more than that?  Still, years of practice as everyone's "best friend" or "sister" trained her well.  Quistis swallowed her pain, forced it deep down inside where she could deal with it later.  To her credit, the grief she felt didn't register as anything more than a twitch of her eyebrow.  She lingered, not wanting to appear as if she were fleeing the scene.  After a few moments, Squall looked up at her, and said, "Welcome back, Quisty."

With that, Squall hugged her close to him.  He was warm, and it startled her, since, to Quistis, he always looked as though he would be cool to the touch.  Moment by moment, she could feel her body moving closer to his as he tightened his arms around her.  Soon enough, Quistis had her head resting on his shoulder, exactly as she'd imagined a thousand times.  Quistis could imagine no more exquisite torture.  She had never felt so close to Squall nor had the distance between them ever seemed greater.  

She wished, that their embrace would never end, and she could hold Squall forever.  That something would pass between them in this instant, something that would convince Squall that she could love him more than Rinoa ever could.  Quistis imagined the feel of Squall's hand stroking her hair, visualized herself tilting her head upwards just enough to let him kiss her.  As much as she wanted to, she couldn't bring herself to do it.  She couldn't look into Squall's eyes and know that he'd rather look at Rinoa.

She knew how little the hug mattered to Squall.  It had lasted less than ten seconds.  To him it was between two friends who hadn't seen each other for a long time.  To her, though, it had all the emotion of an embrace between two lovers, even if one of them didn't know it yet.  She wanted Squall to give her the same warm smile he used when he looked at Rinoa.

He started to pull away, and Quistis suppressed her instinct to cling to him.  He looked down at her and smiled, the moonlight illuminating his pale features.  "Welcome home."

It thrilled her that he'd used her old nickname.  It brought back a host of memories of her childhood: growing up in the orphanage with her friends Selphie, Squall, Seifer, Irvine, and Zell; their beloved Matron -- Cid's wife Edea; summers spent by the sea...  Squall hadn't called her "Quisty" since childhood, and to hear him speak with such familiarity delighted her.  Before she could formulate a reply, though, Squall was gone, cutting his way through the ballroom.  

She stood there, thinking the situation over.  The moon hanging overhead mirrored her emotions: half-covered by clouds.  She hated the fact that she could never confess her love to him.  Quistis didn't know how Rinoa would handle competition, but she knew how Squall would handle such a declaration -- by avoiding the problem, i.e., avoiding Quistis.  Trapped somewhere the bliss of his arms and the anguish of her unrequited affection, she turned and re-entered the ballroom, to take her own leave of the place.


	9. Sleepovers and Cephalapods

Quistis heaved a sigh for what seemed like the millionth time that night.  The walk to her room seemed endless.  Even reaching for her keys seemed like a chore.  She pressed her forehead up against the door, enjoying its cool surface against her skin.  On her way out of the ballroom, she'd noticed happy couples leaving, arms entwined.  Such a simple joy – getting to go to a dance with someone, getting to leave with someone – seemed forever denied to her.

Seifer and Zell, she noted, had already left.  Her first instinct said that they'd gone out, to a club or restaurant, to continue their celebration.  Her second – more accurate – instinct, guessed that they'd rejected that option and stayed in to continue their celebration.

She entered her room, not bothering to flip on a light.  Quistis could navigate her room in the dark, let alone by the moonlight drifting in through the window.  As she made her way across the room, she let one hand linger over the surface of her beloved books.  Bookshelves dominated the walls of the room, ordered in a rigorous system that she alone understood.

The moonlight fell on her bulletin board, one of the first things Quistis put into place when she moved back to Balamb Garden.  A collage of sorts, the board contained various reminders of people and places she liked to keep close to her.  A picture of Balamb Garden, just so she could always keep the place in her mind.  A charcoal drawing of Irvine's, depicting the orphanage and lighthouse.  A set of photographs taken at a booth in Deling City, where she, Selphie, Irvine, and Zell had all piled inside and taken picture after picture until Selphie found a set she liked.  A drawing from Seifer's psychological profile, one he'd made at age seven, and which Quistis had rescued from the incinerator: it depicted Seifer, wearing a huge golden crown, standing with one foot atop the body of the young Zell.  Meanwhile, all the available blank space in the drawing consisted of a horde of worshippers lavishing adulation on Seifer. Below the bulletin board, on top of her dresser, Quistis kept the rose that Zell had made her as a birthday gift.  He'd fashioned it out of sheet metal, and presented it to her in a bouquet of live roses.  Finally, a picture of Squall, taken one day when Selphie ambushed him with her new camera.

As she moved across the room, Quistis couldn't help but stop in front of the mirror.  The image of the girl there hypnotized her and her mind started reeling with the questions she wanted answered.

She wondered what Squall saw in Rinoa that made her more attractive.  She wondered why she'd loved Squall for years, but Rinoa had captured his heart in one dance.  She wondered, and then hoped, that he had nothing more than a superficial attraction to Rinoa, because then, perhaps, she could forget him.  Inside, though, she rejected this notion – in the host of adjectives describing Squall Leonhart, "superficial" had less relevance than "effervescent."

As Quistis changed out of her dress uniform, she couldn't help but think back to that night years ago.  She remembered the pain she felt watching Squall dance with the mysterious raven-haired girl in the white dress: Rinoa.  That night, the same night Cid relieved Quistis of her duties as an instructor, she'd tried to confess her feelings to Squall.  But the ice never melted, and she'd never gotten the chance.  In the so-called "secret area," the place within the training center where couples went to spend time together after curfew, he'd stood there like a statue, dispassionate and disinterested.  Quistis wanted nothing more than for Squall simply to look at her, to let her see behind those stormy eyes and learn his secrets.  That night, in a flash of inspiration, she'd seen the truth – Squall's standoffish demeanor transcended mere introversion.  It came from pain, from a wound so deep that he couldn't even bear to acknowledge its existence.

Quistis turned on her stereo and pulled out a CD that she'd made years before.  The disc contained her medley of "self-pity songs," every track on it calculated to wrench her heart even more than the one before it.  She put the CD in and pressed "play," curling up in a chair next to the window.  The sky outside seemed black and enormous, and she found herself aware of just how alone she felt.  It filled her with terror.

Nothing had come out of the night when she tried confessing to Squall, other than the stirrings of romance between Squall and Rinoa.  All throughout their battles against the Sorceress Ultimecia, Quistis stood by, watching the entire situation unfold.  Every time Rinoa flipped her hair or gave Squall a playful shove, or engaged in any flirtatious behavior, Quistis felt it stab at her like a knife. Rinoa's appearance had done more than bring out Squall's romantic side.  It made Quistis mad with jealousy.  She hated her own immaturity for it, but every time she saw Rinoa hanging on Squall, she wanted to scream.  When Rinoa fell into her coma, it tore Quistis apart to see Squall so anguished, but some sick part of her hoped the coma lasted, so she could have Squall all to herself.

Many people thought that Quistis had emotional shields to rival Squall's, that she had no emotions.  In truth, Quistis felt things just as much as everyone else did, if not more so. She just buried them inside her, masking her own pain in cool professionalism.  

Even now, years later, as she contemplated these feelings, Quistis felt guilty for them.  Whether or not Quistis liked it, Squall and Rinoa cared about each other and, more than that, Squall seemed happy for the first time in anyone's memory.  And no one could honestly consider Rinoa any kind of horrible person.  In truth, she always acted out of compassion, and did her best to look out for her friends, Quistis included.  Though Rinoa didn't grow up in the orphanage with the rest of them, she fit into the group, and Quistis did count Rinoa among her friends.

When Quistis closed her eyes, she imagined herself on the terrace with Squall.  She could still feel the gentle pressure of his strong arms enfolding her and feel the soft caress of the breeze against her cheek.  Again, she saw the starlight gleaming in the depths of his turbulent eyes.  In her mind, though, the embrace didn't have to end.  In her mind, one look filled her painful silence.  She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, he quieted her with a kiss.  His kiss tasted of fire and carried with it the urgency of years, a desire that said he, too, had waited for this moment.  They stayed like that, close, holding each other, long after the dance finished,  Not until the sun started to rise did they return to their senses, and when they left, they left hand in hand.

Quistis had a thousand such "memories" of times that she and Squall had spent together, conversations they'd had, kisses they'd shared, the first time they made love, and any number of other fantasies.  Of course, none of them had ever happened.  Squall haunted her every waking moment, and to him, she existed as nothing more than a comrade-in-arms..

A knock at the door stirred her attention.  "Who is it," she asked, not caring if her voice reached the door.

"Xu."

"Come on in."

Xu stood in the door, still in uniform, lines of worry etched on her face.  "I saw your hasty exit from the ball and wanted to make sure you're okay."  After entering the room, she turned on the lights and closed the door behind her.

"Well, if you consider the fact that my one true love is practically engaged to another woman, then I'm swell." Xu's gaze traveled to the stereo, then back to the wan face of her friend.

"That bad, huh?"  Quistis nodded and, without leaving her chair, held her arms out for a hug.  After a moment, Quistis sat back, sniffling.  Xu smiled and handed her some tissues before taking a seat herself.  "You want to tell me about it?"

As she had done so many times in the past, Quistis told Xu all the details.  The two had spent many long nights discussing their respective romantic problems. Though Xu's affection had fallen on different men before (including an embarrassing childhood crush on Raijin -- a fact that mortified Xu in retrospect), Quistis's attention never wavered.  Seifer enthralled her, she knew, by the sheer force of his personality, and she enjoyed Zell's lighthearted company, but neither one of them compared to the brooding Squall.

Before either woman knew it, several hours passed.

"Thanks for listening, Xu," Quistis said, reaching for her friend's hand across the table.

"No problem," Xu replied.  "Are you feeling better?"  Quistis nodded and mustered a weak smile.  Both Quistis and Xu had the sudden impulse to yawn, an urge they could not fight.

Laughing, Xu started to rise from her chair.  "Well, I suppose that's my cue to leave."  At the door, she turned again and looked into her friend's eyes.  "You _sure_ you're going to be all right?"

The patter of rapid steps coming down the hallway cut off Quistis's reply.  In curiosity, Xu swung the door open to find Selphie standing outside -- clad in flannel pajamas colored red, blue and green, with bunny slippers to complete the look -- fist poised to knock.  She wore a backpack and had managed to lug two pillows and an enormous sleeping bag down the hall.  She beamed a smile at the baffled duo, made her way past Xu without waiting for an invitation, and began unfurled her sleeping bag on the floor.  The surreal nature of the scene, and its rapidity, left Xu and Quistis with nothing to do but stare.

"Umm...Selphie?"  Quistis began, once she'd found her voice.

"Yes?"  Selphie looked up, unaware that her actions might seem out-of-the-ordinary.

"What, exactly, are you doing?"

Selphie peered at her sleeping bag, almost as if she had never seen it before.  Then, with glee in her eyes, she turned to Quistis.  "Well, you looked so sad when you left the ball that I thought you could use some cheering up.  So you're having a sleepover.  Xu and I will have you feeling ten times better by morning."  She looked at Xu.  "Close the door, please.  You're letting in cold air from the hall."  Selphie's tone left no room for argument.  Dumbfounded, Xu swung the door shut.  

Having finished with her sleeping bag and arranged her pillows, Selphie crawled beneath the covers, and started pulling things out of her backpack.  "See?  I brought videos, and popcorn mix and..." looking up, her face registered surprise.  "What are you two doing just standing there?  Quistis, you throw the popcorn in the microwave.  Xu, you go change and get your stuff.  You can come back when you've finished."

Selphie didn't sound bossy in the least.  In fact, the more she talked, the more she infected the other two women with her enthusiasm.  A sleepover seemed like a very good idea, and Quistis realized that she could use the company.  As usual, Selphie stood ready to care for her friends before they even knew they needed help.  Even so, Xu felt the need to challenge her authority.

"And what if I don't come back?  What then?"

"Then," Selphie replied, reaching into her backpack, "Mr. Squid will come and hunt you down."  With this, she pulled out a stuffed octopus from her bag and propped it up next to her pillow.  As a child, she'd loved the octopus above all other toys, and she still kept him in her bedroom.

"You do know, Selphie, that Mr. Squid is an octopus and not a squid?  I mean, you know that, right?"

"Silly.  Mr. Squid is his name.  It's not the name of his species.  Now you go change.  So Quistis, what happened with Squall at the dance?"

Shaking her head, Xu headed down the hall, hurrying a little so as not to incur the wrath of the dread Mr. Squid.


	10. Braid the Raven Hair

As the train entered the tunnel, Rinoa looked away from the window, knowing that the darkness wouldn't relent until the train surfaced, almost the very end of the trip.  As simple as the extensive train network made travel, the underground tunnels didn't make for very interesting scenery.

She extended an arm and turned on the light, looking around her small private berth.  As the daughter of a general, she'd seen better accommodations, but Rinoa had paid for this with her own money, making it a thousand times more valuable in her own mind.  Her father still sent her money so she could board at Garden and stay close to her friends, but she did her best to cover her expenses with the money she made by acting as an academic tutor.  Growing up, Rinoa saw her tutors more frequently than her father, so she had a passing idea of how to interact with students.

Searching for distraction, Rinoa thumbed through a few of the magazines she'd bought at the station, but, other than a few items of clothing she liked, nothing caught her interest.  Drumming her nails against the window, she tried to think of something to occupy her, but nothing came to mind.  Her gaze flickered across the compartment to her overnight bag, where she'd stored her phone.  She opened the bag and took it out, settling in for a conversation.  As she unfolded the phone, she flipped the overhead light off and punched in Squall's number.

She let the phone ring for some time before hanging up and sighing in exasperation, irritated that Squall didn't answer his phone.  She dialed Garden again, this time placing a call to Zell's room.  After three rings, Zell answered, sleep still evident in his voice.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Zell!"

"Rinoa?"  Zell asked in a hushed voice.  "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Of course I do," she replied.  "Do you?"

"Yeah," he answered, "it's like the crack of noon.  Much too early to be conscious."

"What's the matter, Zell, didn't you get to bed on time?"  

Before Zell could answer, Rinoa heard Seifer's voice in the background, asking, "Who the hell is it?"

"Never mind," she said, "I'll rephrase: didn't you go to _sleep_ on time?  Anyway, I'm trying to track down Squall.  I don't suppose you know where he is...?"

"Rinoa, I'll be honest with you: it's too damn early.  I don't even know where the hell _I _am.  Naturally you tried his room and his office before even disturbing me, right?"

"Why would he be at his office?  Wasn't the field exam yesterday?  What kind of work is there for him to do?  Shouldn't he be taking the day off or something?"

"Rinoa," Zell said, the strain audible in his voice, "you know Squall.  He doesn't take time off to eat unless one of us drags him to the cafeteria."

"I guess you're right.  I'll try him at his office.  Sorry for waking you up, Zell."

She heard an incomprehensible mumble before the line went dead.  Rinoa dialed the number for Squall's office, and he picked up before the first ring finished sounding.

"Squall."  

"You know, honey," Rinoa teased, "we're really going to have to work on your phone skills."

"Rinoa!" he said, surprised.  "How are you this morning?"

"Fine.  _Bored. _ This train ride is so incredibly tedious.  What are you doing in your office?  Why aren't you out relaxing?"

"Seems that Cid decided that I'm the lucky guy who gets to handle all the paperwork for the month.  I haven't even gotten a chance to look at my overnight intelligence reports."

"Poor baby," she smiled.  "Do you think you can tear yourself away long enough to meet me at the station?  I thought maybe we could have lunch in Balamb."

"Yeah," he said, hesitantly, trying to determine how much work he had ahead of him.  "Yeah, that'd be nice."

"Great!" she replied.  "I should be there in about a half an hour.  I'll see you then!"

"Bye," he said, and she could already hear him picking his papers back up as she started to turn the phone off.

As Rinoa got off the train, she could see Squall across the platform, his proud silhouette unmistakable through the crowd.  While everyone else scurried around him, Squall stood still, enough so that he looked like a piece of the scenery.  His eyes though, betrayed a degree of restlessness, taking in every detail of the station, scrutinizing every shadow and flicker of movement.

He saw Rinoa and headed toward her, cutting his way through the crowd without making contact with anyone.  As he neared, he held out his arms and she hurried to him, burying her face in his chest.  He held her like that for a moment, and then they parted, Squall smiling down at her.

"Let's get some food," she said, "I'm starving."

*          *

They ate lunch at the cafe of the Balamb Hotel.  The hotel overlooked the tranquil blue waters of the Bay of Balamb, which glittered and danced in the sunlight.  From the terrace of the cafe, they could look out over the water at the boats and the dolphins that skipped among them.  The laughter of the children on the beach mixed in with the sound of the waves.

Squall sat at the table, holding Rinoa's hand.  Neither one of them spoke, but he enjoyed her closeness.  She watched the children play on the beach, and twirled a strand of her hair around one finger.  From observation, Squall understood that something pressing occupied her thoughts.  Rinoa, he knew, would speak her mind when she felt ready, and so he waited for her to start the conversation.

"Squall?" she asked, almost murmuring when she spoke.

"Yes?"

"How did the field exam go yesterday?"  

"Well," he replied.  "How was your visit with your father?"

"The usual.  He called me home just to give me a lecture."

"Which one?"  Squall asked.

"He feels," she answered, "that my dating you compromises his position in the military."  She lowered her voice, imitating General Carraway's authoritarian tone.  "'It is not appropriate for the daughter of a general -- a _general _-- of the Galbadian army to fraternize regularly with a mercenary group such as SeeD.  You need to distance yourself from Garden entirely, or you could be jeopardizing my career.'"

"I see," Squall said, smiling.  "That always was one of my favorite lectures."

Rinoa's face fell.  "I wish it had stopped there.  We wound up arguing, late into the night, like we always do, and I thought I was just about to make some progress when the phone rang."

"What's so bad about that?"

"If there's one thing you should know as a commanding officer, Squall, it's that when the phone rings at odd hours, it is _never_ a good sign."

Squall considered this and then nodded his consent.

"Anyway, it seems that last night there was, of all things, a coup."

"What?"  Squall sat bolt upright in his chair, wishing now that he'd read the overnight reports on the way to the train station.

"Yep.  The President authorized a secret mission of some kind, and it all backfired yesterday.  This group of generals got together and decided that he'd wasted enough of the military's resources, so they toppled his administration.  Right now, he and all the members of his family are in prison awaiting trial.  So anyway, the General goes off to help quell the civil unrest, stabilize the new regime, declare martial law, and he places _me_ under house arrest!  'You make far too attractive a hostage, Rinoa, so I can't have you walking around.'"

"Did he tell you any more details?"

"No," she said.  "He just locked me in my room, like always, posted some guards, and left the house."

"Well, Rinoa, maybe he did the right thing.  I mean, if the situation exploded, there could have been rioting and all sorts of mayhem.  I'm sure he just wanted to keep you safe."

"I know him better than that, Squall.  I was born to this life, remember?  My whole life, I've been a symbol; I've been like the poster child for all the families that the Galbadian army protects.  If something happened to me, my father would lose all that, so he locked me up, away from harm.  He's been doing it my whole damn life."  

Rinoa's hostility towards her father increased as she spoke.  Her voice quivered as her throat constricted.  She felt herself shake as a flush of red climbed up her face.  She found herself clutching a cloth napkin and twisting it into knots.

Squall walked over to her and held her close, the sound of her sobs muted against his body.  He didn't offer any soothing words, knowing that she needed time to release her frustrations.  As her tears subsided, she looked up, her face puffy from crying.  Helping her rise, Squall put one arm around her for support, using the other to put some money on the table.

His arm still around her, for comfort more than support, they left the hotel, walking up the small hill that led to Balamb's main road.  Rinoa stopped and turned her head to ask Squall a question when she noticed that he, too, had stopped walking and started knocking on one of the doors that lined the street.

"How did you...?" she asked.

"I just knew," he shrugged.

The curtain of the nearby window rustled, as somebody glanced out to the street.  Then, the door flew open, and Squall and Rinoa found themselves facing a large, cheery woman.

"Squall!" she cried out, pinching his cheeks and making him wince.  "Rinoa!  How nice to see you!  Won't you come in?  Can I get you something to eat?  What are they feeding you at Garden?  I hope that my poor Zell isn't wasting away like this."

"Hi Ma Dincht," they both answered in unison, greeting Zell's adoptive mother with hugs.

"Actually," Squall said, as Ma Dincht pushed them into her living room, "we stopped by to see if Rinoa could use your bathroom."

Ma Dincht turned and looked at Rinoa, seeing the telltale signs of crying in the girl's red eyes and smeared makeup.  "Oh, you poor dear," she said, crushing Rinoa to her again.  Then, over Rinoa's shoulder, she glared at Squall.  "What did you do to her?  Have you two been fighting?  So help me, Squall..."

Rinoa choked back a laugh and tried to extricate herself from her would-be guardian.  "It's nothing like that, Ma.  I just had a fight with my father last night, and when I was telling Squall about it, I got a little upset."

"Of course you did," Ma returned.  "You know where the bathroom is.  Take all the time you need, dear.  If you want, you can lie down on Zell's bed for a while and collect your thoughts.  Just don't tell him you went in his room."

Rinoa shouldered her small overnight bag and went off to recuperate; Ma Dincht grabbed Squall by the arm and pulled him into what Seifer called her "lair" -- the kitchen.  The kitchen in the Dincht house had odd properties.  No matter how many people she'd already squeezed into the room, Ma could always fit another person around the table.  Many holidays passed where Ma Dincht played host to all of her "children," Zell's friends.  In fact, Squall didn't think he'd ever entered the kitchen without seeing at least three separate dishes cooking.

Ma sat Squall down and started interrogating him about life at Garden.  Most of her questions, centered around Zell: whether or not he maintained a balanced diet, cleaned his room, made his bed, bathed regularly, all things Squall preferred not to consider.  As he did his best to stumble through the conversation, though, all he his mind kept wandering back to the news from Galbadia.

*          *

Rinoa stretched out on Zell's bed and took a few deep, calming breaths before going to the bathroom to reapply her makeup.  Afterwards, she didn't look as put together as she had in the morning, but she at least felt like she could face the world.

She crept downstairs and headed for the kitchen, knowing that, by now, Squall would be ready for a rescue.  As much as he liked Ma, Squall felt uncomfortable in any situation requiring small talk.  He preferred listening to the conversation and having the option of contributing, rather than the burden of carrying the discussion.

Sure enough, when she entered the kitchen, Squall's eyes lit upon Rinoa as his savior.  Ma Dincht turned to face Rinoa and smiled, saying, "Do you feel better, dear?"

Rinoa nodded and replied, "Yes, thank you.  I hate to be rude, Ma Dincht, but we've really got to be getting back."

"I understand.  You kids are always so busy.  But you're not leaving without taking some of my cookies with you."

Of course, it didn't stop with cookies.  In short order, she provisioned Squall and Rinoa with enough of her home-cooked desserts to feed a squadron for several weeks -- assuming the squadron didn't include the voracious Zell, of course.  Laden with food and charged with the sacred mission of exhorting Zell to call home, Squall and Rinoa took to the streets of Balamb.

By that time, late afternoon slipped away into early evening.  The sky raced with brilliant streaks of pink and orange as the sun slid below the horizon.  Hand in hand, Squall and Rinoa made their way back to Garden, following the road that led northeast out of town.

About halfway into their journey, Rinoa set down her load of groceries and stopped walking.

"What's wrong?"  Squall said, setting his bag down and scanning the immediate vicinity for any sign of trouble.

Rinoa walked over to him and put her arms around his neck.  "Relax, tiger," she said, smiling.  "I just wanted to thank you for what you did back there."  Squall started to ask, but Rinoa started to answer the question before he could utter the first syllable.

"I know you wanted to get back to Garden to follow up on what I told you about my father," she said.  "I know it's important to you, but you held off so I could pull myself together.  Thank you, Sir Knight."  Before Squall could respond, Rinoa silenced him with a kiss, long and lingering.

As they moved apart, their pulses racing more than before, Squall fixed her with his gaze.  He kept his hands on her shoulders, but made no effort to hold her.  Instead, he held her with his eyes, in that unique way he had.  His eyes focused on her and she felt the rest of the universe slipping away.  Squall studied her as one might study light or color, as if by looking long enough, he could unravel all her secrets.

Rinoa melted under his scrutiny, as she always did.  She fell prey to "the look" every time he used it, something he did without even knowing its effect on her.  She first felt its power the night they met.  Rinoa had tried flirting with Squall, and encountered the coldest shoulder in existence.  She almost walked away, cutting her losses when she caught him studying her with that unwavering intensity of his.  She knew, at that moment, that she'd never walk away from him.

He pulled her back to him and gently kissed her on the top of the head.  They stood like that briefly, before Squall whispered, "I am now, and always have been, your servant, my Sorceress."


	11. With Grat-like Tread

Quistis clenched her teeth with exertion as her fist slammed into the training dummy.  She received no small amount of satisfaction as the human-shaped object started spinning.  Finding its pattern, she struck again, darting within the perimeter of the movement of the dummy's whirling arms and then back out.  As the object started to swing more wildly, she kept with it, integrating the rhythm of its movement into her own.  She continued to lash out at it, the tempo of her punches increasing, but never losing their controlled focus.

Her movements carried her around all sides of the dummy, so that she attacked it from every direction, ducking just out of its reach when it whistled past her head.  Satisfied, she varied the height of her attacks, causing the dummy to whirl even more and raising and lowering itself at random.  When this bored her, she added kicks into her repertoire, her long legs lashing out at the machine.  She assaulted the dummy with increasing fury until she could feel its central support rod starting to react to her barrage.  Dancing away from the flailing dummy, she walked over to the wall and pressed the "stop" button.  The thing stopped moving and reset itself to its initial position.  She'd broken training dummies before, and Cid hadn't appreciated it.****

Panting a little, Quistis mopped her brow with a towel and took a long drink of water.  Turning, she moved to leave the room, heading towards her locker.  Once there, she pressed her palm against the panel, and the door opened, allowing Quistis access to her combat gear.

She pulled on the long black gloves she traditionally wore, designed to protect her arms from minor scrapes and abrasions.  Quick application of a few clips pulled her hair back and out of her eyes.  Then, she pulled out her massive whip, Save the Queen.  The coiled monstrosity looked like the tail of some great poisonous beast.  It had the rubbery elasticity of a tentacle and a formidable-looking stinger decorating the end.

With a sense of purpose, she strode down the hallway toward the training center.  As the doors slid open, the climate-controlled regularity that marked Balamb Garden gave way to the verdant jungle-like training center.  

The center existed so that SeeDs and cadets could hone their skills at any time, using live monsters as practice.  With real combat, and dangerous results, the ever-present danger kept visitors to the training center alert and on guard.  By engaging the monsters in a replica of their native environment, trainees could get a feel for the unpredictability of battle, how things like weather and terrain condition could affect the flow of combat.  The jungle aspect also made the training center a valuable location for special operations training.  Higher-ranking SeeDs often engaged in stealth combat training, hiding themselves from the monsters and each other as they waged guerrilla war within Garden's walls.

None of the monsters that made the center their home appeared, so Quistis commenced traveling at a slow jog, keeping her senses alert for any attackers.

She didn't have to wait for long.

After rounding the first corner, she felt the ground tremble.  Smiling in satisfaction, she began scanning the trees, trying to discern her opponent's location.  As the trees splintered, the massive black and orange form of a T-Rexaur came into the clearing, roaring in rage.

In theory, Quistis should have been petrified.  She, however, had fought enough of them, both by herself and as a part of various groups, that they had lost some of their menacing quality.  Looking forward to the fight ahead, her face broke out into a full smile.  She detached Save the Queen from her belt and unfurled it.

As Quistis whirled the whip over her head, she delighted in the high-pitched whistling sound it made.  Reacting to the sound, the ancient dinosaur whirled around and roared at her.  Bringing her whip down, Quistis snapped the whip on the ground, the resounding sound a challenge to the enormous beast.

The giant creature lowered its head and rushed at her, seeking to smash her with the bony plates atop its skull.  Well prepared for this attack, Quistis rolled to one side and flicked her wrist out, her whip leaving a long bloody trail on the T-Rexaur's neck, eliciting another roar from the monster.

The enraged dinosaur, still in the process of charging at Quistis, stopped running and swung its tail, which would serve as a very effective and lethal club if it made contact.

Quistis ducked under the tail and struck out with her whip again, this time wrapping it around one of the beast's legs.  With all her strength, she pulled backward, throwing the creature off balance so that it toppled to the ground.  Quistis ran to the head of the monster and delivered a carefully placed blow to its eye, effectively blinding and disorienting it.

With the T-Rexaur almost out of commission, Quistis went inside herself, and began weaving her hands into one of the complex thaumaturgical patterns that made up her special brand of sorcery -- the one she had dubbed "blue magic."  Other magic found its basis in intuitively drawing forces from the natural world.  Blue magic found its basis in long hours of arcane research.  Quistis would observe an enemy in battle, and then spend many a night pouring over massive tomes in the library.  Eventually, she discovered that, after acquiring a piece of a certain creature, she could create and enact a ritual allowing her to replicate its skills.  She could use the other forms of magic too -- the spells and summons taught at Garden -- but she kept blue magic as her personal trump card.

As she finished chanting the words of the spell, the dinosaur began thrashing violently.  It writhed in terror as the space around it started to collapse.  The dinosaur, thanks to Quistis's magic, had become an intense sinkhole of gravity.  It roared in agony as its body folded in on itself, making the beast smaller and smaller.  Momentarily, the T-Rexaur winked out of existence.  One moment it lived, the next it did not, and nothing to marked its disappearance save a small "pop" as air rushed in to fill the void left by the dinosaur's disappearance.

Quistis coiled up her whip, and turned to walk away from the site of the combat when she heard a scream come from the almost the other side of the training center.  Without hesitation, she ran toward the sound of the screams, only to find a pair of monsters backing Rinoa back towards the training center's thick metal wall.

Rinoa spotted her and called out, "Quistis, help me!"

Unfurling her whip, Quistis quickly appraised the situation, running through the encyclopediae in her head.  Rinoa stood threatened by grats -- large carnivorous plants with tentacles.  They captured their prey by putting it to sleep using a sweet smelling gas, or poisoning it with gastric acid.  Having pacified its foe, the grat then digested it, inside the sac that made up the bulk of its body or, when faced with a sizable meal, through the tips of its tentacles.

She struck out with her whip, catching the first one directly around the middle.  The whip coiled around its digestive sac three times before the thing burst, spilling steaming purple juices to the ground.  The whip had no sooner struck the monster then Quistis moved again, on her way to pull Rinoa away from the second grat.

Before she could reach her friend, though, the monster did.  Having sensed, on some plantlike level, that its meal bordered on escape, the monster exhaled a gout of brown, viscous, digestive fluid.  Although the creature had only rudimentary sense organs, its aimed well, and Quistis saw Rinoa crumple.  Rinoa must have taken a direct hit to the eye, ear or mouth, for grat poison took time to reach full effect.

Doubling her speed, Quistis interposed herself between Rinoa and the monster.  "Okay, Mister Grat," she said, cracking her whip loudly on the ground to get the attention of the monster.  "You just done a bad thing."

First, Quistis used her whip to flick away the tentacles that searched for Rinoa's prostrate form.  Three artful flicks, three severed tentacles.  Next, she called up a fire spell -- part of the standard magical repertoire -- and launched it at the creature.  The plant melted away before Quistis realized she'd used one of the most powerful spells she had stored.

Quistis picked Rinoa up and threw her over one shoulder, keeping Save the Queen gripped tightly in the other hand.  Quistis, having performed military extractions in situations far worse than this one, felt rushed, but not imperiled.

As she ran towards the gate, Quistis stopped only to kill the few grats drawn out of the brush by the scent of the gastric juices on Rinoa.  In search of an easy meal, they lurched forth, hoping to find some wounded animal.  Instead, they found Quistis, one of the most dangerous warriors in the history of SeeD, fighting with all her ferocity.

In a short time she reached the exit, still carrying Rinoa, but not tired.  She propped her friend up against the wall and did a quick check of Rinoa's vital functions.  Her pulse and breathing seemed normal, but Quistis felt the girl slipping away.  Rushing across the room to the communications panel, Quistis punched in the number for the infirmary.  It rang twice, and then Dr. Kadowaki, Balamb Garden's chief physician answered the phone.

"Infirmary, this is Dr. Kadowaki speaking."  Although Dr. Kadowaki's voice sounded as warm and matronly as ever, Quistis didn't feel she had the time for social niceties.

"Dr. Kadowaki, this is Quistis.  Rinoa's been poisoned by a grat, I'm bringing her in immediately."

"I'll be ready for her."

She next called Selphie, since she had to pass the dorms on the way to the infirmary, and Quistis could use the help carrying her friend.  As the phone call ended, Rinoa's breathing suddenly went shallow, impelling Quistis to redouble her efforts.  Taking a deep breath, she again shouldered Rinoa, and began running fast as she dared, trying not to shake the other girl's body too much.

"I sure hope you live through this, Rinoa," Quistis muttered.  "If I get you killed, I doubt he'll ever go out with me."          

Quistis and Selphie met up wordlessly in the hallway outside the dorms.  Quistis could read the concern etched into her smaller friend's face, as they lifted Rinoa up between them.  Together, they made their way straight to the infirmary, trying to outpace the venom seeking to dissolve Rinoa.

*          *

While Dr. Kadowaki worked on Rinoa, Quistis and Selphie occupied the main body of the infirmary, using their first aid training to mend the few wounded students that entered the clinic.  All SeeDs had to know some medicine, so Selphie and Quistis found setting bones and bandaging wounds relatively simple.

When they had time to themselves, the two women adjourned to one of the treatment rooms to await word from the doctor.  They sat next to each other on one of the examining tables as Quistis recounted the preceding events to Selphie.

"I just feel so helpless," Selphie said, after Quistis told her the story.  Selphie's legs dangled over the edge, and she looked at the wall as though trying to see Dr. Kadowaki treating Rinoa.  "This should be so minor, but even by the time I met you in the hall, she looked like she was on the verge of death."

"I know.  I've treated grat poisonings before -- hell, I've removed bullets, but I don't know why Rinoa went unconscious so quickly."

Both women found themselves looking again towards the room containing Rinoa's sickbed, wishing they could observe the treatment, wishing they could take some part in healing their friend.  As they drew strength from the nearness of one another, Quistis and Selphie -- longtime friends and comrades-in-arms -- found themselves holding hands, awaiting Dr. Kadowaki's news.

Neither one could be sure how much time had passed when the diminutive doctor entered the room.  They'd almost fallen into a stupor, but the sound of the door opening revitalized them.  Their training immediately took over as they jumped off the table and stood at rigid attention.

Dr. Kadowaki chuckled at their precision and mopped her brow.  She looked somewhat weary, but the expression on her face brought immediate relief to the two young SeeDs, and they knew Rinoa would survive.

"She should come out of it in a few minutes," Kadowaki said.  "She'll be a little groggy at first, but other than that, good as new.  The marks from where the gastric juices got her should go away in a few days.  I'm going to go do rounds now, but you tell me when she wakes up, since I'll need to talk to her."

"Thanks, Dr. Kadowaki," Quistis said.  "You should know by now that everyone here at Garden really owes you."

"Yeah!"  Selphie chimed in, tackling the doctor with an enormous hug.  "You're the best!"

"Thank you, girls," said the doctor, embarrassed, as always, at receiving attention for doing her job.

"So, doctor, what was the problem?  Why did she get so sick?"  Selphie asked.  "From what Quistis said, there wasn't enough of the juice to cause that kind of damage."

Dr. Kadowaki made a small face at what she perceived as Selphie's gaff.  "Selphie," she said, "you know I can't tell you that unless Rinoa's present and says it's okay."

Chastised, Selphie nodded, still curious about the condition of her friend.  She knew, however, that Dr. Kadowaki would not bend on matters of professional ethics.

"Now, you go look in on Rinoa, and call me when she wakes up," said the doctor, understanding that Selphie's concern had just gotten the better of her.

Quistis and Selphie headed for the sick bay and gasped, noticing that the treatment must have been a closer call than Dr. Kadowaki would have liked to admit.  Rinoa lay on her bed, her breathing shallow, and her skin ashen.  Across her face, and down her neck, she had patches of reddened, irritated skin.  Normally, grat juice just left some minor itching, but it seemed to have started eating the flesh off Rinoa's face in places.

"Oh my god," Selphie said, leaning into the frame of the door for support.  Maintaining her composure as best she could, Quistis crossed to the intercom and opened the general channel. 

"Commander Leonhart to the infirmary please.  Commander Leonhart, please report to the infirmary."

Quistis moved closer to Rinoa and took the chair next to the bed, sitting close enough that she could see where individual droplets of the acid made contact.  Quistis pulled her face down next to Rinoa's, her ear close enough to the pale girl's mouth to hear her quiet breathing.

"We did it, Rinoa," Quistis said, tears starting to cloud her eyes.  "We got out of there in time..." Her words came in sobs.  Quistis took another deep breath and looked out the window for a moment, ordering her words before she continued.  "You just need to wake up now.  Selphie and I are here, and Squall's on the way, and we're all going to stay right here until you come back to us."  

Selphie placed a hand on Quistis's shoulder, trying to comfort her.  "It's not your fault, Quistis.  You know you did everything you could to save her.  You can't blame yourself for everything."  Quistis looked up with tear-filled eyes, feeling the burden of her shame.

"But if I'd just gotten her out of there more quickly.  When it came down to the wire, I just froze.  All of a sudden, it's like I was operating in a fog, and I couldn't think of what to do.  If I'd been more clearheaded, she'd be okay right now."

Selphie fixed her friend with a look that she hoped would bring Quistis back to reality.

"Look, you got her out of there quickly.  You also know that when a crisis strikes, you are the most levelheaded of any of us.  So, don't tell me that you froze and couldn't react.  You called Dr. Kadowaki and brought her here as soon as you could.  Don't you think your guilt is motivated partially by the fact that you're in love with her boyfriend?"

A gasp escaped Rinoa's lips as her eyelids fluttered opened.  She lurched, as though awaking from a bad dream.

"Quistis, help!"  She screamed, her consciousness still back in the training center.

"It's okay, Rinoa.  You're in the infirmary.  We got you out of the training center."

"What... what happened?"  Rinoa asked, her eyes starting to come into focus.

As Quistis retold the story, stopping occasionally to pass a damp washcloth over Rinoa's forehead, trying to keep the girl's temperature stable, Selphie went in search of Dr. Kadowaki.

"God, I feel like an idiot," Rinoa said.  "Here I'm so busy watching you thrash a T-Rexaur that I get ambushed by a couple of grats and almost lose my life over it.  Does Squall know?"

"I've already called him, and he should be on his way here."

Rinoa's hand flew to her face, where she could feel the patches of reddened skin.  She gasped as she felt the skin crumble beneath her fingertips.

"Rinoa, I have to ask you: what were you doing in the training center unarmed?  I know you could have protected yourself if you were carrying your Shooting Star."

Rinoa moaned slightly and winced as she tried to recall the motivation for her actions.  Her recall was hazy at best, and she wanted nothing more than to take a nap.

"I wanted," she began, the words coming slowly to her, "to ask you about the dance.  What happened?  Was Squall okay with my not being there?"

Quistis swallowed in apprehension, unsure of how to proceed.  She decided to settle for the truth, knowing Squall would tell Rinoa the same thing.

"He spent most of his time hanging out with the usual group.  He did seem a little distant because you weren't there, though.  I did ask him to dance, so if you count that as moving in on him, I apologize."

Rinoa mustered a smile, then laughed a little.

"Don't worry, Quistis.  I know you wouldn't take Squall away from me.  He loves you like a sister."

Those six words struck Quistis with brutal force, and she wished herself back in the training center, trapped between the jaws of a hungry T-Rexaur.  Quistis forced a smile back at Rinoa, certain that it didn't look convincing.

The doors slid open, and Squall strode into the room.  He took in the scene, moved over to Rinoa's bedside and turned to Quistis, looking at her as if he expected to hear a mission report.

*          *

"...And so here we are."  Quistis concluded, growing weary of telling the story.

Squall nodded, stroking Rinoa's hair with one hand.  "Thank you for saving Rinoa."

He bent down and kissed Rinoa's forehead as Selphie brought Dr. Kadowaki through the door.

"Well, it looks like everyone is here," the doctor said, sitting down in her chair and taking out Rinoa's file.  "Rinoa, do you want to discuss what happened one-on-one, or are you comfortable talking about it with your friends here?"

"They can stay," Rinoa said, looking around the room, smiling at each of the people there.

"Okay.  It seems you have a very serious allergy to grat venom.  While it is toxic to the human body, it is normally only dangerous in large quantities over long periods.  In your case, however, it's dangerous even in very small doses.  If Quistis hadn't gotten you here as soon as she did, the damage would have been permanent."

"What is this leading up to, doctor?"  Rinoa asked.

"Well, for one thing, you can't go back into the training center.  Right now, even breathing grat pollen could have adverse effects on your respiratory system."

Rinoa nodded, and her face fell a little.  Although she rarely went to the training center, it did serve as one of the focal points in the lives of her SeeD friends, and now she'd be forced to stay on the outside, watching.

"Am I going to need to take any pills or anything like that?"

"Well, I can give you a prescription for some pain medication, just in case something starts to hurt as a result of all this.  Other than that, you shouldn't need any medicine, but I do want to keep you here for observation for a day or two..."

"No," Rinoa said, her echoing against the chrome of the infirmary.  "I don't want to stay here.  I hate hospitals."

"Rinoa, it really would be best if..."

Tears began welling up in Rinoa's eyes.  She turned to Squall, holding out her small pale hand to him, offering up a silent plea.  He knew Rinoa's fear of hospitals stemmed from the car accident that claimed her mother's life.  Most of the time, she felt anxious in such settings, but the thought of prolonged stays petrified her, and found surgery the stuff of nightmares.

"She'll stay with me," Squall said, holding onto Rinoa's trembling hand. 

"I'm sorry, Squall?"  Dr. Kadowaki replied.

"She can stay with me.  If she's not in any danger, than there's no reason she needs to stay here.  I'll take care of her."

Dr. Kadowaki opened her mouth to argue, but stopped when she saw Squall did not intend to give way on the issue.

"Okay," she sighed, "just make sure you tell me if her condition changes at all."

Squall nodded in assent, then, rose out of his chair and pulled Rinoa out of her bed.  She looked small and fragile in his arms, but relieved to leave the infirmary.  Without taking the time to brook further discussion, Squall thanked everyone present and left the room.  

"She sure has changed him," Dr. Kadowaki said, shaking her head and turning back to the file to make more notes as she left for her office.

Selphie glanced over and couldn't help but notice the weary look on Quistis's face as she stood.

"Quisty?" she asked.  "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," Quistis said, the hint of jealousy in her voice almost eclipsed by the sorrow.  "I just wish _I _were allergic to grat venom..."


	12. Dice Are Rolling

Quistis slid into one of the seats in the conference room and looked around her.  Mallis, seated at the head of the table, had summoned all the key players from the Second Sorceress War: Squall, Seifer, Quistis, Zell, Selphie, Irvine, Nida, and Xu.

"Well," Mallis began, "I'd first like to thank all of you for meeting with me.  I know we haven't had much time to learn about each other, but I hope to change that in the near future.

"I know you're all extremely busy people, so I'll be brief.  In the weeks since I arrived here, I've spent a great deal of time going over mission logs – watching the tapes, that sort of thing.  As I did so, one thing became abundantly clear: you, as a group, are frighteningly effective.  When we send you on missions together, those missions, on average, are one-hundred and fifty percent more efficient than the average SeeD squadron.

"I don't know anything about school administration, but I do know how to run an enterprise like this one, so Cid has, more or less, granted me autonomy.

"What I'd like to propose is making you into a special task force.  Something like SeeD special forces, if you will.  You'd still go on regular missions as needed, and, on a day-to-day basis, nothing about your schedule would change.  But when a mission comes up that demands special attention – a squad with the ability to strike with brutal force or to act with utmost discretion, we'd call you up.  You'd have complete discretion when choosing which missions to accept.

"Before you decide, let me sweeten the deal."  Mallis leaned forward and clasped his hands together.  "Now, I don't want to insult you, but let's be honest: we're mercenaries here.  We fight other people's battles, and we get paid for it.  So it only makes sense that for fighting an especially dangerous or difficult battle, you should get paid more.  In addition to increasing your current salaries, I'm willing to offer you a share in the profits from every mission you run."  Mallis stood up, a pile of folders in hand.  He turned them over to Squall, who saw his name written on the cover in large letters.  He passed the other folders around the table, each person taking their own.

"I've taken the liberty of playing around with the numbers, and I drew up these projections.  They'll show your current salary, the amount of the increase I'd give you, along with how much the retainer would grow at six, twelve, and twenty-four months.  Plus, as I said, a share of the mission profits."

"Holy shit!" Zell exclaimed, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"As I said," Mallis responded, "these are just some rough figures, subject to change."

"You mean they're _negotiable?"_ Selphie asked.

"My dear girl," Mallis said, "one of the fundamental truths of being a mercenary is that _all _things are negotiable."

"No way," Zell said, finality in his voice as he slammed his folder on the table.  "This whole thing stinks.  You're trying to buy us off, and I'm not falling for it."

"What?" Selphie shrieked.  "Are you insane?  Have you finally snapped?  Are all those hot dogs stopping air from getting to your brain?"  Irvine put a hand on Selphie's shoulder to quiet her down.

"The girl does have a point, Zell," Irvine conceded.  "Look at all them zero's.  That'll buy you a lot of porn."

Despite their best efforts, the group gathered around the table found themselves unable to stifle their laughter.  Zell scowled, folding his arms over his chest.  "I hate you all."

"Of course, all that money doesn't matter to me," Irvine said.  He leaned his chair back and put his feet up on the table, flipping the folder casually away from him.  "I'm not even a SeeD."

Mallis looked over at Irvine.  "Actually, that's something I've been meaning to address, Irvine, so thanks for bringing it up.  Like I said, I've been reviewing mission reports, and you're doing the work of two or three SeeDs at least.  You did a great job supervising the withdrawal at the last field exam.  So, if Commander Leonhart doesn't object, I say we give you a few days to study for the written exam, and if you pass, you're in."

Irvine sat bolt upright, almost falling out of his chair in the process.  "What?"

"Well, we wound up turning a nice profit on that field exam.  We can afford to hire a fifth SeeD.  Assuming, again, that Commander Leonhart isn't opposed to the idea."

Irvine looked over at Squall, trying to look unconcerned with the entire situation.  No one at the table believed him, though.  His eyes gleamed with eager hope. 

"Sure," Squall said, shrugging.  Irvine crowed in triumph, buoyed by what, from Squall, amounted to a ringing endorsement.

"All right.  Just inform one of the Instructors when you want to take the written exam, and come see me afterwards."  Mallis glanced around the table as he stood.  "Now.  There remains the little matter of the proposal I made to you as a group.  What do you say."

"I'm sure as hell in!" Irvine said, laughing as he slapped the table.

"Me too!" Selphie added.

The vote passed around the table, each person voting in favor of the new squadron.  The excitement dampened when it came time for Zell to vote.  Everyone looked at him for a long moment.  He stared back at them, looking at each of them in turn.  Finally, he turned to Mallis and nodded slowly.  The final vote rested with Squall, who responded with his normal enthusiasm.

"Okay."

"Well, then," Mallis started shaking hands as he gathered up his materials and prepared to leave.  "That's all I have.  Do any of you want to add anything?"  Seeing that no one had further comments, he smiled at them.  "Okay.  I'll draw up the contracts and have them sent around to all of you.  Thanks again for being willing to work with me."

As the door slid shut behind him, the group, delighted over their new roles, exploded into animated conversation.  Zell, however, stared out the door as if he could see Mallis through it.  Seifer took Zell's hand and looked into the martial artist's eyes.

"What's wrong, Zell?"  Seifer asked, voice low.

"I still don't trust him.  I just don't know what it is."

"And why should you trust him?"  Irvine exclaimed, clapping Zell on the back.  "I mean, what with the pay raises and special benefits and all.  The rat bastard."

Seifer's eyes flashed a quick warning.  Irvine saw, for a moment, a dangerous and protective streak in Seifer, one that warned him to tread carefully with his jokes.

"Look, Zell," Quistis said, "we can all appreciate that you don't trust the guy.  You're just going with your instincts, and in our line of work, that's something we have to do.  Our instincts keep us alive.  But at some point, you have to accept that he's the Garden Master, that you'll just have to keep an eye on him until you have something more than a hunch to go on."

Seifer, immediately trusting Zell, asked, "Squall, what do we know about this guy?" 

Squall looked across the table at Xu, deferring the question to her.

"Cid hasn't told us very much," she replied.  "Mallis served as an officer in Esthar's army.  Sometime after he left, he started Omega Dawn.  They were strictly small-time.  Mostly intelligence gathering and the occasional black op.  That's all we know."

"That's _all?_"  Nida, silent up to this point, finally spoke.

"Cid hasn't exactly been forthcoming with us," Xu admitted.

"See?"  Zell perked up at Xu's words.  "Either Cid's covering something up or Mallis is.  Or both."

"Maybe Zell's paranoid," Squall said, "but maybe he's right," Squall said.  "Xu, dig around in the Garden Network. Do whatever you have to.  I'll check with Laguna, see what turns up in Esthar's military records.  Everyone else, keep a low profile and be on the lookout.  Fair enough, Zell?"

"Thanks, Squall."

"Right."  Squall looked around the room, finality in his eyes.  "We're done here."


	13. Hypnotist of Ladies

The open-air facility of Balamb Garden's Quad allowed the students a place to meet and relax.  The unknown architects of Garden designed the Quad with a vision of supreme beauty in mind.  The multi-tiered park had several fountains and a large number of trees.  Half of the Quad stood exposed to the elements, while the other half rested in the shadow of the second floor balcony.

Quistis sat against a tree reading, her book illuminated by the warm Balamb sun.  Despite her predilection for the library, or for reading in her own quarters, the crisp air seemed too nice for her to resist.   She'd packed a few items of food into a brown bag and made for the Quad, enjoying her time alone, temporarily removed from the Squall and Rinoa situation.

As Quistis took a bite out of her apple, a shadow fell across her book, obscuring the words from view.  When she realized that the person casting the shadow had no intention of moving, and stood there to cause her discomfort, she looked up, squinting into the midday sun.

"Do you mind?" she asked, trying to sound more pleasant than she felt, "I'm trying to read."  The sun coming from over the person's shoulder made it impossible to read their expression or, indeed, even determine their identity, but Quistis had the distinct impression of a wild grin.

"Look," she said, starting to get genuinely mad, "just leave me alone, okay?  Go pick on someone else."  The figure laughed, and suddenly Quistis reverted to early adolescence, bullied for her above-average intelligence.  She started to stand up to confront the irritant when she recognized the laugh.  

"Irvine Kinneas!" she yelled, "knock it off!"

"Sorry, Quistis.  Is this better?"  Without warning, Irvine stepped to one side, sending the sun directly into Quistis's eyes, blinding her for a moment.  When the spots cleared, she turned to look at him, arms folded smugly over his chest, a broad grin on his features.

"Damn it, Irvine!  Do you always have to be such a child?"

He laughed again, tilting his head back and causing his long brown ponytail to sway.  When the laughter finally subsided, he wiped a tear away from one eye before speaking again.

"You see?" he said, touching the brim of his cowboy hat, "that's why I tell everyone they need to get one of these.  Helps keep the sun out of your eyes."

"Yeah," she replied, "it also makes it easier for people to tell that you have no taste in clothes."

Without waiting for an invitation, Irvine stretched out on the ground, using his jacket as a pillow and covering his face with his hat.

"Harsh words," he said, "things with Squall must really be getting to you."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" she spat.  Then, aware that her protestations gave too much away, "Is there something you wanted, or are you just on break from hitting on the twelve-year old cadets?"

"Actually, no," he said, his voice suddenly devoid of humor or pretense.  "Selphie's kind of worried about you, and so I thought I'd come and talk to you."

"What is this, the Love Doctor makes a house call?"

"No.  I think I know what you're going through."

Now it was Quistis's turn to laugh.  "You?  But you're..." her voice trailed off, not wanting to use the word that first sprang to mind.

"A slut?" he asked.

"Well... yeah."

She could hear a muffled laugh underneath his hat, and Quistis couldn't help but think it sounded somewhat rueful.

"Not really," Irvine said.  "I'm a flirt, but I'm no slut.  I've never cheated on Selphie, and I never would.  I've flirted with other women, but I've never slept with them.  You can ask her."

"Fine," Quistis said, unsure of the conversation's point.  "What does all this have to do with me?"

Irvine sighed and wiggled around, getting more comfortable on his makeshift pillow.  He pulled his hat a little bit further down, and crossed his arms.

"When I was thirteen," he began, speaking with slow, measured words, "I fell in love for the first time.

"I was a cadet at Galbadia Garden then, training to be a sharpshooter.  Until that point, I was cool, detached, focused only on that single point at the end of the barrel.  When I aimed at something it became my whole world.  Everything else fell away, and I lived only for that moment when I could tag my target.  The moment it was over, I packed up the gun, and was able to pretend like I was a normal kid.  That's why I never became like Squall -- because I didn't become that secret, solitary person until I had something in my sights. Even though I always felt like I was selling out, it seemed like the path of least resistance, and that's how I was able to justify my behavior.

"Anyway, that autumn, in one of my classes, I met Aya.  She was a gorgeous redhead, and I fell for her immediately.  She had a lot of good qualities: smart, fun to be with, everything you'd look for -- and, of course, she had lots of guys who were interested in her.  Still, that couldn't stop me from loving her.  I knew it was bad news to get mixed up with her, but I couldn't resist.  I fought it with every ounce of strength I had, but it didn't do any good.  I loved her, totally, irrevocably, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it."  Irvine's voice sound far away as the memories swirled around him.

"So I did what I could to get close to her, not that it mattered, because she had a thing for this blockhead named Diarmid.  Once he realized she was interested in him, he didn't waste any time, and before long, they were a couple.  Suddenly, it's as if they're everywhere.  Every time I turned around, I'd see them together.  And although she seemed happy with him -- which, I can assure you, devastated me -- I knew he didn't adore her the way I did.

"So I found myself on a threshold, wanting to tell her how I felt, but living in abject terror of rejection.  I knew that if I confessed to her, she would never speak to me again.  On the other hand, I was afraid that if I never said something to her, I would miss the opportunity entirely."

Quistis nodded.  Irvine, with his hat covering his face, couldn't see this gesture of agreement, but felt it, knowing from the blonde woman's silence that his words resonated with her.

"Ultimately, cowardice won out, and I never said anything to her.  I tried to be her friend, and to move in the same social circles.  With that peculiar ignorance so typical of teenage boys, I assumed no one ever suspected my feelings.  Which is why I was caught totally off-guard when Diarmid and his friends started teasing me.  It was harmless at first, purely verbal abuse, but eventually they got tired of that game and started doing things like posting fake love letters to Aya – 'signed' by me -- all over Galbadia Garden.  One of the things I loved -- love -- about Aya is that she never mentioned any of this to me.  She knew about it, she knew how I felt, and she just let it be rather than trying to talk to me about it, or taking pity on me, or, worse yet, giving me the 'just friends' speech.

"From what I later learned, Diarmid started picking on me because Aya began to realize what a creep he really was.  So whenever they'd have a fight, he'd work out his macho anger by taunting me, which just escalated the tension between them, which started the whole cycle over again.

"Everything fell apart one night when I was going back to my room after spending a few hours in the library.  I was crossing the concourse of our Garden, when I saw the two of them coming in from outside.  Diarmid had been drinking and immediately tried to get me to fight him.  Now, he was a big guy, and I knew he could probably snap me in half if he wanted to.  And he wanted to."

Irvine paused and sat up, rummaging around, in Quistis's lunch bag.  Eventually, he settled on an orange, and set to work peeling it, using a penknife from the pocket of his coat.  

"So what did you do?"  Quistis asked after a few moments.  "You're still alive, so I presume you didn't actually fight him."

Irvine chuckled, popping a slice of the orange into his mouth.  "No, I didn't fight him.  I was trying to get around him when he took a swing at me.  He was so drunk, though, that he missed me completely and wound up falling over, cracking his jaw on the floor.  She needed help getting him to the infirmary so I wound up sitting with Aya while they patched him back up.  Something about the whole experience changed us, and it was suddenly like we were meeting for the first time.  Later on, Aya told me that the incident was what made her rethink her image of me.  Once she did that, she decided that I would be a better boyfriend than Diarmid."

"Okay," Quistis began, "but what's the moral of the story?  I mean, you two obviously broke up, since you're with Selphie now."

"The moral, dear Quistis, is this: I don't know if there's one true love for everyone in the world, but I do know that couples who aren't meant to be together almost always fall apart.  So if you and Squall are meant to be, just continue to be his friend and eventually, inevitably, things will work themselves out.  That's lesson number one."

"And lesson number two?"

"Lesson number two is this, which I didn't learn until after Aya and I had gone our separate ways, and I'd met Selphie: Even the wrong person can be the right person for a time.  On occasion, being with the wrong person is necessary before you can recognize the right person."

"Wow, Irvine.  I'm astounded," Quistis said.  "I had no idea you could be so... deep."

"Yeah, well don't let it get around, okay?" he replied, grinning, as he stood up donning his coat.  "I have a reputation to uphold."

The triple chime of the intercom interrupted their conversation. 

"First Team, please report to the briefing room.  Again, First Team to the briefing room."

"Well," Irvine said, "looks like our number just came up."

Irvine and Quistis reached the door to the briefing room just as Nida exited, running towards the docking bay of the _Ragnarok_.  They entered to find the room a flurry of activity.  Selphie and Xu worked at the computers, trying to get mission data uploaded.  Seifer, his gray trenchcoat enveloping him, stood with Squall, as they poured over a holographic map of the mission area.  Zell, fresh from training, stood in one corner of the room, bouncing on the balls of his feet and shadowboxing.   The fact that he stood in one place indicated restraint on Zell's part.

At the sound of the door opening, Squall looked up at Quistis and Irvine.

"Good," he said, "you're here."

"We would have been here sooner," Irvine said, "but I had to wait for Quistis to get her clothes back on."

Selphie glared at Irvine, ready to yell at him.  Realizing she had better things to do, she returned to her work.

"We have to be airborne in under 30 minutes," Squall interjected.  "Briefing en route, but here's the short form.

"After the coup, the Galbadian Army imprisoned President Vinzer Deling II, his wife, and their two sons, pending trial.  Trial's over.  All four are scheduled for execution.  We need to extract them.  Get your gear and board the _Ragnarok_."


	14. Dangerous Game

Quistis crouched inside the _Ragnarok, _the other SeeDs around her, all awaiting the cue to start their assault.  The SeeDs sat, stony-faced and silent, focusing on the mission ahead of them.  Each wore a fitted harness connected to a bar protruding from the ceiling by means of a high-strength cable.

The _Ragnarok _flew on its way to Deling City, where the new Galbadian Republic held the former President and his family until their execution.  The sound of air-to-air missiles rushing by served as proof that they had entered Galbadia's airspace without permission.  The ship took a sharp dive as its speed began to cut back considerably.  The red light next to the cargo bay doors turned yellow, and Squall walked over to the doors, readying himself for the jump.  Quistis, next in line, stood up also, leaving Squall enough free room to maneuver.

The yellow light turned green, and the doors opened, revealing Deling City, sprawled beneath the ship.  Quistis's eyes met Squall's for a moment, before he leapt backwards and plummeted into the void.  She only had an instant to watch him as he hurtled to the ground before she had to jump as well.  She did so and marveled at the tranquility that came over her as she fell, seemingly weightless, towards the city below.

As she dropped, her harness gripped the cable with increasing intensity, slowing the speed of her fall.  She hit the ground and undid the catch in her harness, sending the cable rocketing back skyward.  On one side of her, Squall drew his gunblade while on the other side, Selphie just touched down.

They'd landed on the building where the Galbadian Army kept the Delings prisoner.  Within the span of a few heartbeats, the entire assault team had landed.  No sooner had Zell, the final member of the team, unlatched his harness, than an anti-aircraft gun fired into the air_._  The _Ragnarok_ veered sharply in an effort to avoid the gunfire, but a few bullets managed to clip the dragon ship on one wing.

"Nida," Squall said over the communications channel, "get the ship away from here.  We'll call you for extraction."

"Understood, Squall.  Be careful."  The _Ragnarok _evaded another spray of fire and made its way to safety.

"Well," Irvine said, "they know we're here."

"Stay sharp," Squall instructed.  "Seifer, Zell: let's go."

Squall and Seifer made their way over the rooftop to the door leading into the building.  Finding the door locked and bolted from the inside, Seifer reached for a charge of explosives.  As he worked, the ground started to shake.  The loud rumbling sound that accompanied it alarmed them all.

"Guys!" Selphie yelled.  "You might want to take a look at this."

They dashed to the edge of the roof, where Selphie stood looking down to the street below them.  A military convoy drove away from the building.  Several infantry carrier vehicles lead the way, followed by a heavy transport carrying one of the modular cells from Galbadia's D-District Prison.  The rearguard consisted of several large tanks, turrets swiveling around to face the building on which the SeeDs crouched.

Squall swore, mind racing as contingencies whirled through his consciousness.  The sound of a cannon told him he'd run out of time.  The SeeDs threw themselves away from the edge of the roof, pressing themselves flat to the ground.  

"That was a warning shot," Irvine said.  "I've seen those tanks before.  They use computer-guided targeting systems, and they don't miss."

"Selphie, Quistis, set up a barrier.  Be ready, because if they can't hit us, they might try to bring the building down.  Irvine: stop the transports from moving, or they'll escape entirely.  You'll also have to shut down the tanks.  Seifer, Zell and I will try to get downstairs and catch up to them."

Squall stood up and hurtled across the roof at the door leading to the stairs.  He heard Quistis and Selphie beginning to cast their spells, fortifying the roof from the tank's fire.  

Squall readied himself to kick the door in or, failing that, ram it with his shoulder.  He took a few deep breaths in preparation when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Got it," Zell said.  He walked up to the door and stood before it, taking a moment to run his eyes up and down its length.  Zell nodded to himself and closed his eyes.

"Zell, we don't have time for..."  Squall stopped as Zell sprung to life.  He planted his feet and hit the door with tremendous force, causing it to explode inward.  The three ran down the stairs, past the wreck of the door, Squall marveling at Zell's talent for destruction.

*          *

The second shot came just as Quistis finished her spell.  She saw the air shimmer in front of her as the air folded in on itself, creating a barrier to hinder the progress of anything fired in their direction.  As the tank's shell neared, Quistis felt her shield straining to hold it back.  She struggled, pushing the shell away from them with her mind, when she felt Selphie finish her own spell.  Quistis gasped in relief and satisfaction as the bullet fell, lifeless, to the street below.

Irvine stood to one side, manipulating the switches and buttons on his Exeter rifle.  Within moments he'd converted the gun into one of its alternate firing modes, one of the little "extras" that set Irvine's weapon apart from ordinary guns.

He grabbed an ammunition pack from his belt and slammed the cartridge into the chamber.  He dropped to one knee, bringing the gun to rest on his shoulder.  Through his extensive sniper's training, he only needed a moment to aim before he pulled the trigger.  The gentle pressure from his finger sent a rocket screaming to the street below them.  It shattered the pavement, kicking up a tremendous cloud of dust and stopping the transports from proceeding.

Irvine nodded in appreciation of his own work, but didn't hesitate in starting to reconfigure his rifle.  He saw the infantry in the personnel carriers starting to mobilize, and wanted to give them a little surprise for them as they began their counter-assault.

.

*          *

Seifer, Squall, and Zell bolted through the opening and stared down the gaping hole of a tank turret.  The monstrous cannon fired, and had they reacted a half-second later, the shell would have destroyed them all.  Instead, the shell collided with a building down the street, knocking its supports out and bringing it tumbling to the ground.

"You guys, go.  I'll slow up the tank,"  Zell smiled as he spoke, eager to increase the number of Galbadian war machines he'd destroyed since joining SeeD.

As Seifer and Squall ran past the tank, Zell charged it, leaping atop it in a few short bounds.  One of the soldiers inside flipped open the hatch, and stood up, aiming at Zell with an assault rifle.  Zell kicked the man in the face, knocking him back into the tank.  Zell closed the hatch again and stood over it, concentrating on the points he wanted to strike.

His fist crashed into the hatch repeatedly, each time with enough force to cause the juggernaut to tremble beneath him.  After several such punches, he managed to deform the hatch, sealing it shut and trapping the drivers inside.  He moved on to the turret, and repeated the procedure, this time pummeling the barrel out of shape.  When he finished with it, the barrel of the main cannon zigzagged, rendering it useless.

*          *

The first wave of soldiers poured out of the transport.  The first infantryman's feet barely touched the ground when the back of his head exploded, causing him to fall backward into his comrades.  The second soldier recoiled in horror as the blood splashed onto him, moments before he fell to the ground.

"Sniper!" one of the soldiers screamed, looking around for the source of the bullets.  His search ended when another of Irvine's bullets tore its way through his skull.

Back on the rooftop, Irvine smiled in satisfaction as he targeted one soldier after another.  The flood of soldiers dwindled as they realized that stepping out of the armored vehicle signed their death warrant.

*          *

Selphie and Quistis focused their magic on Irvine, keeping him safe from the occasional bullet sent their way by incautious soldiers.  Quistis glanced down to the street below and saw Squall and Seifer dashing towards the prison transport.  Irvine continued to lay down his field of suppressive fire, keeping the soldiers from shredding the two SeeDs to ribbons.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the tanks bringing its main cannon to bear on Seifer and Squall.  She watched in amazement as the cannon swiveled past them, aiming at one of the buildings nearby.  It fired at the base of the skyscraper, demolishing it and sending tons of debris plummeting towards her friends.

Operating on instinct, Quistis dropped the magical shield she'd maintained and cast another spell.  On the street below, the wind suddenly picked up, whipping its way through the buildings and creating a terrible howling.  She focused the wind, controlled it with her mind and channeled it into a funnel, a tornado born of magic, strong enough to keep the rubble from hitting the ground.

Seifer and Squall split up, running around the tornado, getting clear of it so Quistis could let the debris fall.  When she did, she felt as if she'd carried the building's weight herself.  

A rapid hammering sound as Zell finished work on the final tank.  He sprang off it and ran to follow Seifer and Squall.  The massive pile of broken concrete proved no obstacle.  He bounded up the barricade without hesitating, his sense of balance as unerring as his reflexes.  As he moved, the pieces he used as stepping stones shifted beneath him, every one forming a small avalanche.  Zell, however, didn't notice, having already moved past off the precarious footing by the time it started to slide.

*          *

Irvine's marksmanship kept the soldiers confined to their vehicles.  They'd learned that exposing even the smallest bit of their bodies invited the sniper to send a bullet streaking down to their position.

As he surveyed the street, he saw Zell pass through his field of vision, heading towards the transports.  By the time Zell arrived, the soldiers had thrown their weapons out of the vehicles and had their hands on their heads.  Zell quickly picked up a machine gun and trained it on the surrendering warriors.

"Keep me covered, Irvine," he said through the communications channel.  "If they so much as blink in my direction, drop as many as you can."

"Right," Irvine replied.

Zell started to round up the soldiers, herding them away from their weaponry.

"Problem," Squall's voice ran through the channel for the first time.  "There's no way we're getting into that cell.  The metal's too thick."

"I've got an idea," Irvine answered.  "Seifer, grab one of the guns and help Zell keep the soldiers in line.  Squall, get the Delings as far away from that door as you can."

"Irvine, what are you going to do?"

"Trust me," Irvine said, already partway through the transformation of his rifle.  "Just make sure they're away from the door."

He finished, and grabbed another ammunition packet from his belt, this time, a clear crystal, sparkling and iridescent as the light ran through it.  He loaded it into Exeter and took aim.  A brilliant flash of white light streaked through the air, leaving the smell of ozone in its wake.  He ejected the crystal, now dark and muddy, its energy spent.  Another crystal and another shot blasted through the air.  

"Okay," Irvine broadcasted, "they should be able to push the door open now.  I took out the hinges, so there shouldn't be much resistance now."

Squall conveyed this message to the Delings, inside the prison cell.  They applied their combined weight to the door and it fell outward, hinges obliterated from Irvine's shots.

"Nida," Squall said, "we're ready for extraction."

In a matter of minutes, the _Ragnarok_ hovered overhead, stirring up dust from the collapsed building.  At Squall's instruction, Nida kept the ship's weapons aimed at the surrendered soldiers while the SeeDs guided the Delings onto the ship.  This done, Nida turned the ship full around and flared the engine, sending the dust cloud directly into the soldier's faces as the ship sped out of Galbadian airspace.


	15. Falcon in the Dive

"That was _awesome!_"  Selphie's voice reverberated against the metal walls as she bounded down the ramp and into the _Ragnarok's _hanger.  She took up a fighting stance and punched at the air, imitating Zell.  "Bam!  Pow!  Splat!  I've never seen anyone beat up a tank before!"

Zell ran a hand through his hair, doing a poor job of feigning modesty.  "It was no big deal.  Any other world-class martial-arts genius would have done the same."  But Selphie's attention had already shifted.

"And Irvine!  Kapow!  Kapow!  Those soldiers didn't even know what hit them.  And then Quistis with that tornado!  Fwooosh!"

"I'll second that, Selphie," Seifer added.  "Without that tornado, Squall and I would be buried under a mountain of cement."

"We definitely owe you for that, Quistis," Squall said, walking backwards so he could face her for a moment.  "It was quick thinking."

"Gee, Squall," Selphie giggled, "maybe you should take Quistis back to your room and debrief her personally."

This time, Squall stopped as he turned around.  He cocked his head at Selphie.  "That's not necessary, Selphie.  We'll debrief as normal."

Squall turned around and resumed walking, missing, as he did so, the fact that Quistis glared at Selphie and pantomimed slitting her throat.

The door opened before them as the group entered the body of Garden itself.  Cid stood and the end of the hallway, Xu and Mallis flanking him.

"Returned triumphant from their first mission as an official team!" the General exclaimed.  "Bravo, all!"  Mallis unclasped his hands from behind his back to applaud them.

"Stow your gear and report to the briefing room," Cid said, turning before the SeeDs had a chance to salute him.

"Well," Mallis said, watching Cid walk away. Then, turning back to the First Team, "Well done, gang."  This said, he moved to follow Cid, his long strides enabling him to catch up to the Headmaster easily.

*          *

"And where are the Delings now?" Cid inquired.

"We dropped them at Fisherman's Horizon," Squall replied.

Cid's eyebrow went up at this.  "FH?  Why there?"

"Apparently, Vinzer Deling II knows Mayor Dobe, who was willing to shelter them."  Cid nodded in response, before taking off his glass and cleaning them.

"I was watching the mission as it played out," Mallis said, "and I must commend you all on your quick thinking.  I don't think any other group of SeeDs could have pulled this mission off."

"Hopefully," Cid reentered the conversation, setting his glasses back into place on his nose, "another team would have arrived on time."

"What?"  Squall's question leapt out of its own accord.  Quistis saw the look of stark disbelief on Squall's face, but Seifer's reaction alarmed her far more.  She could tell by the set of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders that Seifer – never a model of restraint -- had his temper in check, but not by a large margin.

"We got the Delings back!  That's good enough, right?"  Cid flashed a glare at Selphie, who'd raised her voice beyond what he considered an appropriate level.

"We were airborne almost immediately after you handed me the assignment.  Xu set to work on planning the mission at once and we did the briefing in the air," Squall stepped in, deflecting Cid's wrath.

"Well," Cid's voice cut like a knife, "next time, I suggest you get airborne sooner.  The Delings should have been out of that building before the convoy even arrived.  The fact that you salvaged this mission at all bespeaks the total... ineptitude of the Galbadian army rather than any ability on your part.  You got lucky."

"Cid," Mallis cut in, voice low, "I think you're being a little harsh on them."

"You would do well to remember your place, General," Cid stood up, placed his hands on the table and turned his cold gaze on the new Garden Master.  "Whether they belong to your so-called 'First Team' or not, this is still my Garden, and these are still my SeeDs.  I suggest you concern yourself with the financial state of this Garden and refrain from meddling in affairs in which you are wholly ignorant."

With this, Cid stalked out of the room, leaving the General behind, as stunned as everyone else at the Headmaster's outburst.  As he left, Selphie took the chance to stick her tongue out at him.  Quistis stole a glance over at Mallis as a storm raged across the right side of his face.  The left side of his face, the eyeless side, sat perfectly still, while the right side of his face scowled at Cid's insult.  Buried in the icy contempt of his eye, Quistis saw the ruthlessness that made Mallis an effective mercenary leader.  Then, as if it had never existed, the anger vanished, and the Garden Master turned back to the table, once more in control.

"Well," he said.  "That was certainly... scathing.  I suppose I'd better go make nice with the boss."  He stood, straightening his uniform.  At the door, he added, "Cid's comments notwithstanding, you did an excellent job today."  Mallis left, and the SeeDs listened to his footsteps recede in silence.

"Cid's an asshole."  Nida supplied.  Irvine walked over to the door and closed it, leaning his long frame against it.

"I've been yelled at before, but never like that."

"I don't think I've ever seen Cid that upset," Quistis answered.

"Yeah," Zell added.  "I'll wager only two people in this room have ever seen him that pissed off."

All eyes went to Seifer and Squall.  Seifer sat with his eyes closed, focusing on calming breaths, but his flaring nostrils gave away his true feelings.  Squall sat resting his chin on his folded hands.  He'd hidden his reaction away, but everyone could see the wheels in his head turning.  A knock on the door prevented further conversation.

"In," Squall said.  Irvine stepped away from the door and opened it, allowing a lower ranking SeeD entry.  Squall stood and walked with him over to a corner of the room, where they whispered for several seconds.  They finished their conversation, and the SeeD left at once closing the door behind him.  By that point, Squall had already crossed to the projector controls, causing a holograph to hang in the space over the table.

It showed Deling City, the combat zone from the day's mission.  Rubble lay everywhere, and the hollow skeletons of buildings loomed over the scene.  In the center of the wreckage stood a lectern bearing the crest of Galbadia's armed forces.  Kel Llyriance, recently appointed Director of National Defense, and effective leader of the new Galbadian Republic, stood behind the lectern.  Behind him sat the generals of the Galbadian Army, among them Rinoa's father, who wore a dour expression on his face.

"Today is a day of tragedy for our nation.  I stand here, amid the ruins of a terrorist attack on Galbadia City," He used the new name for the city – the name chosen in the aftermath of the coup that dethroned Vinzer Deling II.  "They hide behind a façade of respectability.  But today, SeeD has shown its true colors.  They are little better than thugs for hire, willing to destroy a city simply because someone jingled a few coins in their direction.

"For too long, we have stood idly by while SeeD ravages, pillages, and destroys everything in its wake, guided only by their slavish devotion to the bottom line.  That ends today.  The bloated and corrupt leaders of the Deling regime were willing to endure the loss of life because they occasionally found SeeD useful in achieving their own iniquitous purposes.  The vile bastards found use for SeeD again today.  The degenerates dropped a few coins on the ground, and Cid Kramer dispatched his lackeys to investigate.  Because of this, the vermin slipped through our fingers before we could bring them to justice.

"SeeD is a cancer, a malignant parasite growing fat on blood and death.  They crawl on the ground, scavengers in search of gold, heedless of the cost of their actions and unconcerned with the devastation that has become synonymous with the word 'SeeD.'"

"Wow," Irvine said, shaking his head at the rhetoric.

"Yeah," Zell chimed in.  "I'm guessing he's not a fan."

"And it all ends today," Llyriance continued, his thin voice amplified by the array of microphones in front of him.  "I have created a special military task force whose purpose is the complete eradication of SeeD.  They will not rest until every person in that contemptible organization has been brought to justice.  They will either surrender to us, or they will die.  There is no alternative.

"Now, I'd like to present to you the leader of this task force.  He has been a loyal soldier in Galbadia's army for most of his life, and it is to his care that I entrust this crucial mission.  Citizens, I give you General Nicholas Caraway."

Caraway approached the lectern amid thunderous applause.  The briefing room fell silent as Squall shut off the projector.  His emotional barriers had fallen, and his face registered his total bewilderment at this development.  

"Squall?"  Quistis spoke first, trying to bring him back.  "Squall, are you okay?"  She put a hand on his shoulder as punctuation to her question.  By rights, he should have flinched at the unexpected contact, but the implications of Caraway's new appointment stunned him enough that he failed to react.

After a few moments, he managed to start processing the situation.  His eyes focused on a point somewhere over Quistis's shoulder and a single word escaped his lips.

"Shit."


	16. Chess

Squall's attention shifted from the monumental declaration of war to the ringing of the phone in his jacket pocket.  He reached inside and pulled out the small device.

"Squall," he answered.  He remained silent, listening to the other person speak, as his friends tried to read his face.  "Understood," he finished, snapping the phone shut.  "Cid and Mallis will be here in twenty minutes.  We wait."

"Great," Seifer said, scowling. "And we thought Cid was in a bad mood before."

"What are we gonna do?" Selphie asked.

"Good question," Xu added.  "Any brilliant ideas?"

"I've got one," Zell said.  "Give me five minutes in a room with that Llyriance guy, and I promise he'll change his mind."

"I said 'brilliant' ideas, Zell," Xu said, scorn in her voice.

"What's wrong with my idea?  We fly over there, kick his ass, and we'll be back by bedtime."

"He just declared war on us.  There's a subtle difference between declaring war and challenging someone to a fist fight."

"I'm just saying that..."

"I think Zell's right," Irvine interrupted.  "Assassination is the way to go.  One shot, right between the eyes."

"Oh, wonderful," Xu muttered, "let's prove we aren't terrorists by assassinating this guy."

Quistis moved to the other side of the room, setting her hand on Xu's shoulder, trying to restrain her friend from escalating the situation.  "Xu's right.  The last thing we need to do is make a martyr out of him."

The door slid open and everyone stood up and saluted.  Rather than the Headmaster, though, Rinoa entered the room and immediately crossed to Squall, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his chest.  He put his hand on her hair, trying to comfort her without words.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, words muffled by his body.

"Nothing," he answered.

"What?" she disengaged and looked at Squall in disbelief.

"Rinoa, you don't need to worry about it."

"I don't need to worry about it?" she said, her disbelief taking on a distinct edge.  "My father just declared war on my boyfriend and I don't need to worry about it?"

"That's not what I meant," he replied, leaning in close to whisper, loathe to publicize their private life.  "I realize this puts you in a tough spot, but it doesn't change anything between us.  Okay?"  She nodded and he pulled her back to him.  After a moment, he spoke again.  "Nida, get the _Ragnarok_ ready.  I'll need Selphie to pilot, though."

"Huh?" Nida sputtered.

"Sorry, Nida.  We need you here in case Garden has to go mobile.  Zell, Irvine, Seifer, grab your gear and load it onto the ship; we'll suit up there."

"What are we packing for, Squall?" Irvine inquired.  "How much of my gear do you want me to bring?"

"All of it," Squall shot back.  He had found a rhythm by this point.  "Xu, talk to Caraway and set up a meeting.  Transmit the information to me once you have it.  Everyone have your orders?"

"Squall..." Quistis ventured, reluctant to break his concentration by pointing out that she, in fact, had no orders.

"I know, Quistis," he replied, crossing the room to her.  He took a moment to look into her eyes, and then reached into his shirt.  He produced an object from within and pressed it into her hand.  "You have command."

She nodded at this charge.  As Squall watched, she hung his Griever pendant around her neck, answering him in kind.  "I have command."

"Okay, everyone," Squall said, moving for the door.  "Let's go."

"I'm coming with you!" Rinoa exclaimed.  "I know how to talk to him."

"No, Rinoa," Squall replied.  "I need you here."

"Why?"

"Rinoa," Quistis said, understanding Squall's intent, "I need you to help me come up with a profile of your father.  I need to know how he thinks, how he feels, anything you can tell us to help predict his actions.  If we manage to get a bead on him, we might be able to stop this war before it ever starts.  Okay?"

"But what if he tries to capture you guys or something?  You'll need me there to stop him."

Squall tilted Rinoa's head up to meet his gaze.  "He won't try anything.  I promise."

"But..."

"Trust me.  You have to trust me.  I need you to help Quistis."

"Okay," she said, but Squall had left the room by the second syllable.  "Be careful!" she called after him.

"Come on, Rinoa, let's get to work on that profile while we wait for Cid.  He's going to _love_ this turn of events."

"The declaration of war, or Squall and those guys running off without permission?"  

"Both."

Quistis and Rinoa sat at the table, Rinoa doing her best to provide Quistis with information that would prove useful to SeeD.  Cid arrived at the briefing room angry but left furious, promising to have the heads of Squall and his "band of renegades."  Forty-five minutes passed before Rinoa thought to ask the question Squall knew she would eventually ask.  Quistis knew she would ask it as well, and came up with the pretense of the profile to give Squall time to get airborne.

"Quistis?  When Squall was leaving, how could he be so certain that my father wouldn't do anything to him?"

"You know Squall: he's got good instincts."

"Come on, Quistis, I'm not stupid.  He had an angle.  How could he be so sure?"

"You just became our hostage."

*          *

He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a slim metal case.  Inside his head, he could hear his wife sigh in protest, as she'd done so many times in the past.  He flipped it open and gazed at the cigarettes inside, admiring their beautiful uniformity, how they stood arrayed in a perfect row, like little soldiers.  His mouth watered in anticipation at their taste, a blend of his own imagining, refined through long years of indulging his vice and custom-rolled by a usurious merchant in Dollet.  Still, he thought, the money SeeD placed at his disposal more than compensated for their cost.  And since Esthar had resumed trading with the world at large, he could return to his original list of ingredients, rather than relying on sub-standard materials from Galbadia.

He removed one cigarette from the case, snapping the lid shut.  As he replaced the silver case in his pocket, his fingers idly traced the engraving: _Esthar__ College__ of Magic and Thaumaturgy._  

The engraving stirred his memory, calling to mind his days as a student, when he'd first met the woman he would one day marry.  He thought of their courtship, marriage, and subsequent emigration, refugees fleeing the violence that brought about the collapse of Adel's regime.  Following that, he remembered the discovery that they would never have a child of their own, and the decision that came fast on its heels: founding the orphanage by the sea.

The children came next, so many of them having lost their parents to the horrors of the Sorceress War.  In some of them burned the brilliant flame of destiny, an undeniable power to remake the world.  He could see it in them, and Edea, with the aid of her Sorcery, confirmed it.  They found six such children, and brought them to the orphanage, and the rooms hummed with their energy.  It crystallized him, gave him focus and purpose, showed him what he had to do.  

He founded Balamb Garden, knowing that one day, the children would gather again.  As they returned to him, he continued their training, using methods somewhat harsher, perhaps, than Edea would have endorsed, but always focusing on the greater purpose.  It pained him, now, when he thought of how far his charges had strayed from the path.  He'd spent so much time charting a course for them, trying to guide them, but somehow, the children refused to fall into line.

Which brought his mind back to the present, returning his attention to his cigarette.  He held it upright, rotating the small cylinder as he thought.  He caressed it with his mind, and the tip ignited in a burst of green flame.

Like the cigarettes in his case, he'd tried to give each child a place, asking only that they remained in order once he'd set them there.  But like the cigarette between his fingers, they had left their assigned spots.  And, like the cigarette between his fingers, they would burn.

*          *

"There's the Tomb," Selphie said as she prepared to land the _Ragnarok._

"And there's Caraway's limo," Seifer added, "with a security detail, of course."

"So, once more, just to be sure I'm not missing anything," Zell said, looking at the entourage below, "we've flown all the way into enemy territory just so we can bluff a little?"

"Yes," Squall replied, as he buttoned the collar of his uniform jacket.

"And why couldn't we do this from Garden?  You know, where there's less chance of us getting shot?"

"Relax, Zell," Irvine said, smiling.  "I'll bet ten hot dogs against a pizza that Squall knows what he's doing and we get out of this problem-free."

Zell's eyes lit up at this prospect.  "You got yourself a bet, cowboy."  Irvine grinned wider and continued twirling the revolver in his hand.

"Okay, guys," Squall said, as they walked to exit the ship, "remember the plan."

"What plan?" Zell asked.  "You just want us to stand there and look dangerous."

"Exactly."

"Don't worry, Squall," Irvine said, clapping Squall on the back.  "I've got you covered."  Irvine finished with his revolver, twirling it neatly into the holster at his side.  He opened his trenchcoat, revealing the formidable arsenal he'd brought with him.  He had guns at his sides, in shoulder holsters, holdout weapons at his ankles, spring-loaded guns in his sleeves, two bandoliers of ammunition and a belt of throwing knives, all in addition to Exeter.

"Damn, Irvine," Seifer said.  "Do you think you brought enough guns?  You look like an assassin."

"You think I'm _just_ a sniper?" Irvine replied.

The _Ragnarok's_ hatch slid open with a hiss, and Squall descended the ramp, the other three men flanking him.  Caraway stood at the Tomb of the Unknown King, framed in the doorway.  His guards, silver and gray armor glittering in the sunlight, maintained a safe distance, but Squall could see the desire to attack etched on their faces.

"General," Squall said as they approached, his tone betraying no emotion.

"Hello, Squall," Caraway answered.  "Let's talk inside."

The two men headed inside, both followed by their guards.  As Squall's retinue passed the Galbadian soldiers, one of the guards mumbled under his breath, "Mercenary scum."

As one, Seifer, Irvine and Zell turned to face the man.  Seifer and Irvine tensed, ready to reach for their weapons if the situation demanded it.

"What did you just call me?" Zell snarled, clenching his fists at his sides.

"Zell," Squall called over his shoulder, his voice echoing through the halls of the ancient tomb.  A tense moment passed as the two groups of soldiers eyed each other warily, but the parties relented.

They continued in silence to the heart of the Tomb, where the Unknown King lay interred, his identity a mystery lost to time.

"So, Squall," Caraway said, clearly not in the mood to make small talk, "what's this about?  I presume you aren't here to surrender."

"Any chance you're here to surrender?"

"No," the general answered.  "There's no room to negotiate here.  I don't like this situation, but I've been given my orders, and I have to follow them."

"Why?" Zell blurted out.  "Why not just tell these guys that you won't do it?"

"Because Director Llyriance and the Committee of National Defense are hunting for traitors.  Anyone who doesn't dance to their tune is publicly executed.  The same goes for anyone who represents a link to the Deling regime."

"It's true," came a thin voice from behind them.  Llyriance came walking softly into the crypt, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.  "Sad, but true.  Our young nation is beset by traitors within, and besieged by barbaric mercenaries without."

"Director Llyriance!" Caraway exclaimed.  "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, I've always had a fondness for this place," Llyriance replied, making a slow circle of the room, one hand trailing on the crumbling masonry.  "In my youth, I liked to repair to the Tomb to collect my thoughts, away from the pandemonium of the city.  I thought I'd take one such constitutional today.  Imagine my surprise, dear general, when I saw your limousine outside.  Imagine my greater surprise when I found you here with these vermin."

Squall heard Selphie's voice in his ear, listening over the communications channel.  "Pompous little twit, isn't he?"

"Commander Leonhart requested a conference with me," said Caraway "I thought it would be a chance to accept their peaceful surrender."

"Of course, of course.  And have you done so?"  Llyriance smiled.

"He has not," Squall's voice came out clear and strong, preventing Caraway from answering, "because we have not come to surrender."

"So what, pray tell, brings the vipers from their nest?  Did some unwitting fool drop the contents of his wallet on the ground?  Or is this some banal parley, a tired exchange of witticisms before battle is joined?"

"Squall, can I hit him now?" Zell asked, as he stood looking down at Llyriance.

"Actually, Director, we came to inform General Caraway of a fact your intelligence networks may have missed," Squall spoke without acknowledging Zell's request.

"Do tell, Commander.  If your laughable organization can keep something dark from us, I'm positively dying to know what it is."

Squall turned to face Llyriance, looking down into the shorter man's eyes.  "Until the time of the Second Sorceress War, no one knew that the Gardens were built to fly.  We stumbled upon that fact by accident.  On making this discovery, we continued our research into the design of the Gardens.

"About two weeks ago, our technicians discovered a fully-functional weapons system built into Balamb Garden.  It includes, among other things, a battery of long-range missiles.  These missiles can easily strike 'Galbadia City' from Balamb, and have enough destructive force to level the city.

"On that note, Director, how are the repairs on Galbadia's missile base coming?  You're still trying to restore the facility from the last time we destroyed it, I imagine."

With that, Squall turned on his heel and walked out of the Tomb, leaving the Galbadian delegation to stare, dumbfounded, at his back.

*          *

As soon as Selphie started the _Ragnarok_ on its course back to Balamb Garden, Squall seemed to sag, energy expended.

"Squall, what the hell was that all about?" Zell asked.  "We have missiles?  Since when?  Why didn't you tell us?"

Squall and then glanced at Selphie, imploring her with his eyes.

"We don't have missiles," she supplied.  "He made that up."

"Okay," Seifer said, "so now they think we're a threat.  Was that the point of this little conference?"

"To find out if Caraway was behind this war or not."    She shrugged.  "Now we know he isn't."

"And the missiles?"

"To buy some time, for us and for them.  Caraway has an excuse for not attacking us.  He can keep the army tied up for weeks with an investigation on the missiles, and we can figure out what our next step is."

"Told you!" Irvine exclaimed.  "Squall knew what he was doing all along!  You owe me a pizza, shortie!"

As Zell and Irvine began arguing over the terms of their bet, Seifer noticed Squall slump into the seat next to Selphie.  Seifer moved over to his friend and knelt down beside him.

"What's the matter, Squall?" he asked.  "That was a brilliant move.  You're as good a general as Caraway is."

Squall looked up, an almost imperceptible hint of sadness in his face.  "That's what I'm afraid of," he replied.

"Huh?"

"Caraway was easy.  Rinoa's the problem."


	17. Bacchanalia

Squall paused outside the door to his room, preparing himself for the battle ahead.  As he swung the door open, he saw Rinoa, silhouetted in the window, shoulders tense with anger.  She glanced up at him, fury in her dark eyes.  He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, leaning up against it, unsure of where to begin.

"You know," she said, "Selphie and Irvine fight about things like his flirting with other girls.  She doesn't have to worry about being held hostage against her father."

"You aren't a hostage," he replied.

"Oh?  Let's see, you flew to meet my father, knowing he wouldn't hurt you because I stayed behind in Garden, where I could be killed if anything happened to you.  'Hostage' sounds like a pretty good word for it."

"First, no one here has any intention of..."

"What?" she interrupted.  "Are you going to tell me how apparent force is just as important as actual force?  Because I've heard that speech before, 'General.'"

"You're safer here than you are in Galbadia.  That's why I needed you to stay.  I admit, I knew your father wouldn't hurt me because you're here.  Llyriance showed up at the meeting, and I promise you, he'd take you prisoner if he thought it would benefit him."

"Great.  Well, at least I'm being held hostage for the good of all of Garden, instead of just you."

Squall took a deep breath, trying to maintain his focus.  He stepped away from the door, looking at the carpet for a long moment.  "Look, right now, things are very delicate.  Everyone in this Garden is counting on me.  They're putting their lives in my hands."

"I know, I know, you have a duty.  We've been over this before.  It's just... hard to know that you put your duty first."

"I don't," Squall said, speech slow and careful.  "Remember when we found the _Ragnarok_?  I threw myself into space because I couldn't bear to see you die, not if I hadn't done everything to save you.  I didn't expect to survive.  And it didn't matter, because... I knew I couldn't... go on without you."

Rinoa felt the anger flooding out of her.  "Squall, I..."

"Please," he held up a hand, "let me finish.  I've got to say this.  I wanted you here... so I could watch out for you   I'm your Knight, and I'm the one responsible for keeping you safe."

She walked over to Squall, wrapping her arms around him, tears welling up in her eyes.  She held him like that for a moment, before, through her tears, she started laughing.

"What?" he said, stepping back to look at her.

She pulled him back in, and laughed for a moment longer.  "It's just funny.  You always talk about how you don't know what to say.  But you always do.  I'm on to your little act."

He leaned in and kissed her gently on the forehead.  "And," he whispered, closing his eyes, "I needed you here for me."

*          *

"Okay," Quistis said, addressing her class, "who can tell me what this is?"  She pressed a button and an image popped up on the screen behind her: an enormous plant with row upon row of dagger-like teeth, a multitude of eyestalks and countless writhing tentacles.  Several hands went up in the air.  Quistis pointed to Tia, a thirteen-year old junior cadet seated in the third row.

"It's a malboro," the girl answered.

"Good," Quistis replied.  "What else can you tell us about it?"

"It's a plant with rudimentary intelligence.  It metabolizes chlorophyll like other plants, but supplements its diet with meat – mostly scavenged, which is partly responsible for its dangerously bad breath."

"And why do we care about its dental hygiene?" 

"Because the malboro's breath is toxic to humans, causing a wide range of side effects including blindness, delusions, paralysis, and, if not treated promptly, heart failure."

 "Correct, and on that note," Quistis said, glancing at the clock, "we'll have to end class.  Do the reading on the syllabus and be ready for a quiz.  Dismissed."

The students stood up and filed out of the room.  Tia remained behind, waiting as Quistis answered questions from other students.

"Instructor Trepe?" 

"Yes, Tia?"

"Do you ever read _Occult Fan_ magazine?"

"I have in the past," Quistis replied, thinking of the brush she, Squall, and the others had with an extraterrestrial during their quest to defeat Ultimecia.  "Why?"

"Well, there have been reports of a new monster in the Grandidi Forests.  See, here?"  Tia produced a copy of the magazine article, featuring a sketch of the creature – a hulking humanoid with a pyramid-shaped head.  "A few hunters stumbled across this thing in what they think is its lair.  They found it sitting among a pile of bones and it started to chase them.  It skewered one of them, but the other two got away."

"And?" Quistis asked.

"And I want to run a capture mission.  Go into the forest, find the thing, and bring it back for study."

"You're only thirteen years old.  Are you sure you're ready?"  She hated asking that question.  Quistis had heard it enough in her life.  She saw Tia rail against her inquiry, knew that the girl wanted to mention the fact that Quistis ran her first mission at the age of thirteen.  Sensing a trick question, Tia composed herself.

"I've read the incident reports from the sighting.  I've contacted the author of the article, as well as the two surviving hunters.  There have also been subsequent incidents that haven't been published yet, and I've read all of those.  And, if you look here," Tia now produced a map of the forest, marked with a red circle, "I've narrowed down the search area to an easily manageable size.  I'm ready."

Quistis sat down at her desk and punched up Tia's profile.  "I see you've already taken courses in mission profiling and squad leadership."

"Yes.  And last term, my squadron took first place in our combat exercises.  I can handle this."

Quistis could hear the resolution in the girl's voice.  "I'll tell you what.  I'll sign off on the mission as long as you take two members of SeeD with you.  Will you have a problem finding them?"

"No, Instructor," Tia replied, face flush with excitement.

"Okay.  Write up a mission profile and send it to me.  I'll look it over and take it to Commander Leonhart.  I doubt he'll object, so you should be all set."

"Thank you, Instructor Trepe!" the girl exclaimed.

"Sure thing.  Just be careful."

Tia left the room with an enormous smile on her face, thrilled at winning Quistis's support.

"She reminds me of you at that age," said a voice from the back of the room.  Quistis looked up in surprise.

"Seifer!" she exclaimed, seeing him seated in his old spot in the back row.  "I didn't hear you come in!"

"Well, I spent so much time sneaking out of class, I thought I'd try sneaking in.  You know, for variety."

"And what brings you back to class, Seifer?  Are you here to serve some of your detention time?"

"You know," Seifer said, smiling, "I kept this scrapbook of all the incident reports that were filed against me.  Zell got bored one time, and did the math, and says I'm supposed to be in the detention center until sometime after my twenty-seventh birthday."

"I can believe it," Quistis laughed.  "I did try to keep you out of trouble."  One eyebrow arched up.  "'Try' being the operative word."

"Yeah.  You did.  And I'm sorry I made things so tough for you."

Quistis shrugged.  "We were kids.  A lot has changed since then."

Seifer leaned forward in his seat, smiling.  "Yeah.  I'm dodging Cid at every turn, and you're the still the model of SeeD propriety."

"I am not!" Quistis exclaimed, aghast.  "I was as ill-behaved as anyone else around here."  She paused for a beat.  "Well, maybe not as bad as you."

"How many demerits did you have?"

"One."

"Oh, please!" he snorted.  "And how old were you when you received your precious demerit?"

"Eleven," she replied, without hesitating.  "You and Squall were fighting and I was trying to stop you two, but we all got written up for it."

"You see?  The only demerit you ever got, and it was a mistake."

"You're right," she sighed, resting her chin on her hand.  "I was always scared of making a mistake."

"Well," he answered, rising to his feet, "there's no time like the present."  In a few short strides, he crossed the room, extending a hand to her.  "Come on."

"Why?" she asked, standing up.  Seifer had already reached the door and started down the hallway.  "Where are we going?" she called after him.

He turned to face her, walking backwards with a cunning smile on his face.  "We're going to do something you'll regret."

*          *

"What are we doing here?" Quistis shouted, trying to make herself heard over the deafening bass of the club's sound system.  Seifer didn't reply, sliding through the crowd and up to the bar.  Having placed his order, he turned and gestured Quistis in the direction of a table.  She darted across the crowded room and reaching the table moments ahead of another woman, who left in annoyance to seek out an empty table.

She sat down and waited for Seifer, taking in the club's distinct lack of charm.  Originally a warehouse, the walls of the club had no decoration.  Bare steel girders and pillars served as the building's support structure – a precarious one at that, judging from the signs of metal fatigue. The owners made a conscious decision, she guessed, to pour their profits into the enormous sound system, the club's only redeeming feature.  The throng of people on the dance floor seemed oblivious to the place's flaws.

"What do you think?" Seifer said, approaching the table, drinks balanced precariously in hand.

"The music's too loud, the people here are probably sub-literate, and I think the building is structurally unsound.  If they turn the bass level up any higher, I'm afraid it will shake the girders apart and the whole building will collapse."  Quistis still had to shout to make her voice audible.

"Yeah," Seifer yelled back, grinning, "I wouldn't recommend the food either."

"Why did you get three drinks?" she asked.  "Is someone joining us?"

"Just you and me," he said, sliding two of the drinks over to her side of the table.  "Drink up."

Quistis started to protest, but Seifer raised his glass and extended one finger, silencing her.  "Okay," she sighed.  She raised her glass and drained it, the alcohol stinging her throat on the way down.  This done, she emptied the other glass, setting it down beside its twin.  "Happy?"

Seifer consumed the alcohol in his glass in one gulp.  "Delighted," he said, turning over his shoulder and gesturing to a waiter.

"You're ordering _more_?" she asked, incredulous.

"Of course.  You're not drunk."

She shook her head.  "So why are you intent on getting me drunk?  Planning on taking advantage of me?"

One corner of his mouth turned upward.  "I just think you need to relax a little.  Let your hair down.  Get your mind off Squall and Rinoa."

"Ugh," Quistis rolled her eyes.  "I think I do need another drink."

"Things not going well, huh?"

"Same as ever."

"Well, I don't envy Squall right now.  I've been on the receiving end of Rinoa's wrath, and it's not fun."

"So, Seifer," Quistis said, leaning in to him, "you've been there.  Maybe you can help me understand.  Why Rinoa?"

Seifer looked down into his drink for a moment.  "I don't have anything but theories, but if..."

"Come on, Seifer, skip the disclaimers."

"Okay, okay. Theory the first: I think part of it is the inherent difference.  Not only is Rinoa unlike Squall, she's unlike anyone he's ever met.  She's from a world that's completely different from anything he's ever known"

"How so?" Quistis took another sip of her drink.

"Well, think about it," he replied.  "Squall – well, all of us at Garden, really – spent our lives around professional soldiers, or people who were learning to be soldiers.  That's the world we know.  And I think that it affects the way we grow up."

"Yeah.  I came to Garden just after my tenth birthday..."

"And how old were you the first time you saw a friend die?" he asked.

"Eleven."

"Exactly.  We all have a similar story.  And that's what I mean.  We grow up with death playing a central role in our lives.  And while Julia died when Rinoa was only five, Rinoa got to have a relatively normal childhood."

"We, on the other hand, grew up wondering if we'd survive final exams."

"So, for Squall, meeting someone who didn't grow up in our world was probably quite a shock."

"Yeah," she said, "and the fact that she hit on him while wearing an extremely short dress probably didn't hurt either."

Seifer laughed.  "Wow.  Why don't you tell me what you really think?"

"Sorry," she replied, brushing a strand of her hair behind one ear.  "Can I blame it on the alcohol?"

Seifer closed one eye and looked critically at her.  "Oh, not for at least another drink or so."

"Fine," she answered, draining the glass in a few short swallows.  "Order more."

He slapped the table, a grin on his face.  "That's the spirit."

A quick frown crossed her face.  "I hope that wasn't a pun, Seifer.  I have no desire to listen to you wine."

"Well met, madam.  In deference to your upcoming intoxication, then, I'll forgo the puns."

"Good," she shot back, winking, "normally, I'd be glad to engage in a battle of wits, but I never strike an unarmed man."

"Well, if you're going to adopt that attitude, I won't honor you with theory the second."  Quistis mimed locking her mouth shut and throwing away the key.  After a moment, Seifer continued.  "That's better.  Anyway, theory the second: Rinoa needs Squall.  She needs a protector.  She's strong, in her way, but at the same time, she needs someone to hold her when she wakes up from a nightmare.  And I think he likes that."

"So basically," she sighed "he wants someone who didn't grow up in Garden, isn't a SeeD, and can't take care of herself."

"I think you're oversimplifying a bit, but yes.  At least, that's what I think he wants now."

"No wonder I'm the overlooked one."

"Have you ever thought that maybe it's for the best that way?  I know you think you'd be happy if you were in Rinoa's shoes.  But I don't think you would be.  You have too much talent to live in Squall's shadow for the rest of your life.  You've spent enough years doing that as it is."

"You know something, Seifer?  You're right," with this she emptied her glass again, then stood up, putting her hands on her hips.  "Enough talk.  Dance now."

"No," he replied, "I'd better stay here and guard our table."

Quistis, now feeling the effects of the alcohol, scowled.  "But I want to dance!"

"So go find someone cute and start dancing.  Let yourself go."

"Fine," she nodded her head sharply.  "I will."  So saying, she grabbed Seifer's glass and emptied it, too, before heading off to the dance floor

"Have fun," he murmured, watching her retreat into the crowd.

*          *

Zell slid through the door, head starting to bob in time to the thundering beat.  As he closed the door behind him, he paused for a moment to allow his eyes a moment to accustom themselves to the dim lighting.  In the center of the room pulsed a throng of people, blissfully lost amidst the deafening music.  While Zell would normally head for the dance floor and dance until faced with dehydration, this time, he came in search of Seifer, propelled by a brief note written in Seifer's ornate script.

As Zell glanced around the club, he noticed a flurry of activity in the center of the floor.  Not tall enough to see very far into the crowd, he only got an occasional glimpse – a flash of long blonde hair one moment, the swirl of a red dress the next.  He tried to move closer, but the people around him seemed determined to keep him away from the dance floor.

"Fine," Zell muttered.  Without hesitating, he grabbed an empty chair from a table near him and stood on top of it, looking across the room.  Sure enough, he'd seen Quistis in the center of the dance floor.  She appeared to be dancing, not just with one man, but with several, all jockeying for space around her.  She'd focus on one man for a moment, dancing close, her lean body moving in time with the music before she twirled away, moving on to someone else.

His hunt for Seifer abandoned, Zell stared.  He never, in his wildest imaginings, would have anticipated seeing Quistis like this.

"Get off that chair," came a smug voice from beside him.  "You look ridiculous."

Zell glanced down to see Seifer standing next to him.  "Sorry," Zell said, hopping off his perch.  He stepped in close to Seifer, emphasizing the difference in their heights.  "Not all of us happen to be freakish giants."

Seifer laughed.  "Don't worry.  You may be short, Zell, but you command lots of respect.  There are a lot of people who look up to you.  True, most of them are tonberrys..."

Zell snorted and stared back out at the dance floor.  "It's Quistis," he said, turning back in amazement.

"I know," Seifer answered, a note of pride in his voice.

"What...?  I mean, why?  I mean... Is she drunk?"

"Exceedingly."

"And you're responsible?"

"Also correct.  In case you were wondering, she can hold a surprising amount of alcohol."

"I'm impressed.  Yet another person you've managed to corrupt," Zell said, sliding one arm around Seifer.

"I figured she could stand to have a little fun.  You know, do something outside of Garden."

"Well, I'd say you succeeded.  She does seem to be having fun."

"Yeah," Seifer said, watching her with one eyebrow raised.  "And I'd say we have a few more hours before she starts to wind down.  You wanna dance, shrimp?

*          *

"Looks like the sun will be up in a few hours," Zell said as he and Seifer exited the bar, balancing Quistis between them.

"That was Zell with the weather!" Quistis exclaimed, her voice echoing over the quiet Balamb street.  "Next up, Seifer and the sports report."

"Okay, Quistis," Zell whispered, trying to hush the girl up, "that was a little loud."

"Loud?" she bellowed.  "_This _is loud.  'Whenever sang my song...'" 

Abandoning the pretense at civility, Zell clapped a hand over her mouth, which didn't stop her from singing around his hand.

"We can't take her back to Garden like this," he said.  "What are we going to do with her?"

A voice from behind them called through the darkness, "She can come home with us."  

Fanned out across the street stood four young men, all clad in motorcycle jackets, doing their best to look menacing.

"What are you supposed to be?" Zell laughed.  "Are you like Balamb's one gang?"

The tough in the lead snarled as he unfolded a switchblade.  "Just for that, blondie, we're going to kill you and the girl."

A buzzing noise started to echo in Seifer's skull, the volume increasing with every second.  He shifted Quistis's weight over to Zell and stepped forward.  "Zell, take Quistis and get out of here."

"But Seifer..."

"Go!" he snapped, and thunder rang in his voice.  

"Come on, Zell," Quistis, the danger of the situation starting to bring her back to her senses, said.  "He'll be fine."

Seifer heard their footsteps retreating behind him, the sound fading away, lost in the noise of his mind.  The leader of the group stepped forward, his knife gripped between his long fingers.  Seifer, without hesitating, pounced at the man.

The man barely had time to raise his knife into a fighting position.  Before he could blink, Seifer had whipped his trenchcoat around the man's arm, causing him to lose a grip on his knife.  Seifer grabbed the knife and pulled the thug to the ground, driving the blade deep into his opponent's throat.

Without moving from his position, Seifer lashed out, driving the knife into the next man's kneecap.  As number two crumpled two the ground Seifer, leaping back to his feet, kicked the fallen assailant in the head, steel-toed boot causing the skull to crack audibly.

In another bound, Seifer leapt over the two bodies at his feet, blade arcing out and slicing number three across the forehead.  This man screamed, blinded by his own blood.  Seifer ducked in low and stabbed this man in the stomach.

Suddenly, Seifer heard someone call his name.  The buzzing, no longer counting out a perfect rhythm for him, returned in force.

"Seifer!"  He heard Zell's voice this time.  Looking around, Seifer found the ground slick, the knife in his hand shedding rubies onto the street below.

He looked at the fourth man, who wore a look of panic.  "Run," Seifer snarled through clenched teeth.  Wasting no time, the man took to his heels, leaving his comrades to pour out their lives.

"What happened?" Zell asked, a mixture of concern and horror in his voice.

"The buzzing," Seifer replied, focusing on returning his pulse to normal.

"Again?"           

"Again."


	18. I Could Have Danced All Night

"They attacked precisely as you instructed, sir, and he killed three of them without receiving a scratch."

"The fourth?"

"In custody.  Almasy let the boy escape."

The fleeting desire to smile flickered and died within him.  He enjoyed seeing his subordinates tremble under his cold gaze, and didn't want to ruin the effect by betraying his curiosity.

"Interesting," he said.

"What should we do with the survivor, sir?"

"Kill him.  Collect the evidence of the brawl and conceal it in the Dollet safehouse.  See that Cid Kramer doesn't find out."

"Sir."

The other end of the videophone disconnected as he sat back into his chair to contemplate this turn of events.  Clearly, the Almasy boy had more power than he'd anticipated.  And while he longed to pursue his inquiries, he, as a veteran manipulator, sensed the influence of another, more desperate hand.  So, he would watch, and wait.  He'd decades waiting, and he could continue to wait weeks, months, years if necessary.  He had nothing but time.

*          *

She slid through the door to her office, a large pile of books stacked in her arms.  As she crossed the room, Quistis noticed a small slip of paper lying on her desk.  She immediately recognized Seifer's intricate, flowing script.

_Pond in the training center.  Bring weapon.  Seifer._

She smiled, wondering what Seifer considered important enough to warrant breaking into her office.  She set her books down, and crushed the note in her hand as she locked the door behind her.

Selphie stood in the lobby outside the offices, waiting for the elevator.  Her face lit up as Quistis approached.

"There's my favorite lush!" Selphie squealed.  Quistis felt the embarrassment crawl up the back of her neck.  "How did you enjoy your evening of depravity?"

"Who told you?" Quistis asked, mortified.  "Was another Instructor there?  Did someone see me?"

"Relax," Selphie laughed, "it was just Zell.  You know how he gets when he has a secret."

"Fair enough.  What else did he tell you?"

"Just that you went back to the Balamb Hotel and slept with the two of them."

The flush had reached Quistis's ears by this point.  "_Slept_ being the operative word."

"Still," Selphie shot back, "I'll bet you were surprised to wake up, with a hangover, between two men."

"To say the least," Quistis replied, rubbing her forehead at the memory.  "You should have heard the way those two laughed at me."

"I can imagine."  Selphie's jade eyes danced in delight.  "And what's this I hear about a resolution?"

Quistis squared her shoulders and stood up straight.  Looking Selphie in the eyes, she recited, "I'm not going to spend the rest of my life waiting around for Squall.  The time has come for me to be my own person."

Selphie nodded.  "I admire your conviction, Quisty.  When does your new life begin?"

Quistis sighed, knowing the difficulty inherent in overcoming her long-standing crush. "Any day now.  I hope."

*          *

Seifer stood, Hyperion at his side, looking out over the water of the training center's small pond.  He whirled as he heard her approach, but made no effort to raise Hyperion.

"Quistis," he said.

"Yes?" she replied, allowing Save the Queen to unfurl to the ground.  "Did you want to spar?"

"No," he shot back, keeping his voice low.  "I just needed a pretense to meet you here."

"And why, exactly," she asked, folding her arms over her chest, "did we have to meet here?  We could have talked in my office."

"You'll think I'm crazy," he said, stepping forward and putting a hand on her arm, "but I think Cid has the offices bugged.  This way, he sees us coming in here with weapons, and he can't trace us, but he thinks we're here to train."

"Okay," she laughed, "I don't need to tell you how paranoid you sound, right?"

"You'd be paranoid too," he exclaimed, "if you'd just killed three people in a street fight."

"What?" she whispered "Are you being investigated?"

"That's just it.  There is no investigation.  These guys have dropped off the planet.  No newspaper reports, no police, nothing.  It's like it didn't happen."

"Did you and Zell hide the bodies?"

"No.  We hightailed it right back to the hotel.  By then, you'd already gotten a room, so we just came up and crashed.  In the morning, everything was gone.  Every single stone on the street had been washed."

"So what do we do?"

"I don't know!" he shouted.  "If Cid finds this out, I'm a goner.  This is exactly what he's been waiting for."

"Settle down," she said.  "Since the investigation hasn't taken place, he has no reason to find out.  So let's not draw attention to ourselves unless something happens.  Then, we talk to Squall."

"He's already put his neck on the line for me.  I can't ask him to do it again."

"Don't worry, Seifer.  Don't get alarmed until there's cause for alarm.  Besides," she smiled, "I know something that will cheer you right up."

"What?" he asked.

"Oh," she said, coy, "just a little 'thank you' for getting me out of the dumps.  Follow me."

Quistis led Seifer out of the training center and back to the elevator.  Once everyone else had left, she removed a pendant from around her neck, upon which hung a card key.  She pushed it into the key slot.  The elevator began its descent as Seifer watched Quistis in amazement.  She delicately replaced the key, and smiled at him.

"Is that one of...?"

"Yes," she answered.  "I filched it from Cid's office when I was thirteen.  Some of us are smart enough not to get caught."

The elevator stopped, the doors opening onto a dark hallway.  Quistis, her route memorized from years of illicit visits, carefully threaded her way through the labyrinthine passages, Seifer close on her heels.  They stopped outside a sealed door, Quistis's gloved hands tapping out an intricate code on the keypad.  With a pneumatic hiss, the doors slid open.

Seifer found the room behind the doors small and unimpressive, but meticulously clean.  The small space contained shelf upon shelf of ancient books, many of them with exotic bindings.  By glancing at different tomes, Seifer could see the rich, dark hues of behemoth-skin, the iridescence of ruby dragon scales, and the thick, blistered chitin of hexadragon armor.

"What is this place?" he breathed.

Without waiting for an answer, he picked up a book near him an opened to the nameplate, where he read the words _Esthar College of Magic and Thaumaturgy_, and below it, inscribed in a neat hand, the owner's signature: _Cid Kramer._

"He was a student there," Quistis explained, "before the Sorceress War.  Before the orphanage."

"And what did you want me to see?" Seifer asked, awed but still perplexed.

The coy smile danced back across Quistis's face.  She held something behind her back.

"I believe," she said, taking a step forward, "this belongs to you."

With this, she brought her hands around, revealing another of the old books, this bound in a rich brown.  The words on the cover quickened Seifer's pulse as soon as he read them:  _History of the Cruciform Knights._

And emblazoned on the cover lay the same sigil Seifer wore on almost all of his clothing.  The one piece of heritage he possessed.  His emblem, his standard, the cruciform sword.


	19. The Girl of the Dawn with Eyes of Blue

_You already know the truth, dear reader.  You have not come for the truth.  You have come for the lies.  You wish to know the falsehoods, the rumors, and the truths history has left behind.  Believe none of the truths you find herein, for I am just one more of the rogues, brigands, and fiends that make up my family.  As any honorable citizen will tell you, we are warlocks and murderers.  We have no interest but our own, no allegiance to king or country.  In the journey between salvation and damnation, we have chosen damnation, and we wash our hands in the blood of those who cross us.  Any honest man can tell you these things._

_So believe not a word I have to say._

_I whisper in the shadows, I speak blasphemy.  The secrets too black to remember, I recall.  The stories daylight wishes to conceal, I expose.  You see before you the book of lies, the redemption of the damned, the exoneration of our fallen heritage.  I offer this chronicle to those borne of our bloodline, so they might learn of their ancestors' honor.  Lest they believe the slanders they hear in public, I commit these words to the page.  All those who bear the Almasy name shall know of their birthright through this book._

_You have heard the fools say, no doubt, "The pen is mightier than the sword." We, however, do not distinguish between sword and pen.  We make our ink from shadows and blood, and we use the fate of nations as parchment._

_History divides men into two classes: rulers and the ruled.  Once we ruled, shining and glittering in ancient cities.  In this. though, time has forgotten us. But time marches ever forward, sweeping men's lives with it.  And in the Empire of Dollet, it swept the line of Merovian Emperors into the halls of power._

_Dulac Almasy, considered the first of our line: friend and advisor to the first Merovian Emperor.  When their dynasty ascended to the throne, we walked with them.  At first, we served as advisors and counselors to the Merovian Kings.  As time passed, though, we grew into something... more.  When the Kings needed liegemen and knights to protect them, we stood, honor-bound and ready to die._

_Know that all rulers have one in common: their desire to preserve their sovereignty.  For this purpose that they fight wars, and while all wars need soldiers, not all wars take place on the battlefield.  Sometimes, kings and emperors wage war in throne rooms and dining halls, in bed-chambers and seraglios.  So when a Merovian Emperor needed a task accomplished, one requiring a certain amount of discretion, he turned to the closest, most trustworthy, most honorable souls at hand.  He turned, of course, to an Almasy._

_We moved in the shadows, subtle whispers in a world of deafening shouts.  When a King called for dagger or poison, an Almasy bowed his head.  When he wished to kill a friend or placate an enemy, an Almasy slipped into the darkness.  We reaped material rewards, perhaps, but never asked a word of thanks.  Diplomats, spies, assassins, thieves: the eyes, ears, and hands of an entire dynasty._

_When one dynasty fell, we retained our place as tools of order, serving no one King, no one dynasty, but the system entire.  The protectors and guardians of those who revile us, and for us to work effectively, they must never know it.  Every time they curse the name of an Almasy fiend or assassin, our cloak of shadows grows._

_In their name we have sacrificed our honor, given up the appearance of nobility.  Our sacrifice, our crucifixion gave rise to our banner: the Cruciform Sword._

_So, read these tales, child of my blood, and drink deeply of our heritage.  But always remember that I am, first and foremost, an Almasy, and therefore a liar._

*          *

Seifer looked up from his book, eyes bleary from hours of study.  He took a few glances around the room, noticing that night had long since come to Balamb Garden.  Although he'd spent the better part of the day reading, he had yet to make a sizeable dent in the _History._  He stood up and stretched his muscles before furrowing his brow in determination and returning to the massive tome.  

"Seifer?" called a voice from beside him.  Seifer looked up to see Zell standing there, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his shorts.  "Seifer, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Zell," Seifer replied, blinking a few times to clear his field of vision.  "I've been reading for a long time.  Kinda tired."

"Long time?  Seifer, the library closes in five minutes, extended hours or no."

"Okay, okay," Seifer shot back.  "Give me a second and we'll be out of here."

Seifer stood and started to pack up his belongings, as Zell watched, face filled with worry.

"What's with the face, Chicken-Wuss?"

"You look like shit, Seifer.  Did you even eat today?"

Seifer paused, considering this for a long moment before shaking his head.  "No.  I got here right when the library opened and I haven't left since."

"C'mon, then.  We'll dip into my stash of emergency hot dogs."

They left the library, arm in arm, revisiting a familiar argument.  "You know, Zell," Seifer started, "not every problem in the world can be solved by applying hot dogs."

"Sure they can!" Zell chirped, waving to his ex-girlfriend Callo as they left the library.  "You see, hot dogs are nature's most perfect food..."

They continued their ritual dialogue, growing louder in volume until shushed by one of the robed and omnipresent members of the Garden faculty.  They walked on in silence, before Zell spoke again.

"This book is really important to you, huh?"

"Yeah." Seifer nodded.  "See, you have a family.  The Dinchts adopted you, and you know who you are.  I mean, you're one of them.  Squall knows about his parents, too.  I don't have that.  All I ever had was this emblem of mine and a desire to be a knight.  Now I know where I come from."

"So you come from a line of knights, right?"

"Well, kind of.  None of the Almasy's were ever knighted, but they all acted to protect their kingdoms.  In fact, you'd be surprised at the part they played in the history of the Dollet Empire..."

*          *

Mallis sat in silence, pouring over the latest report.

According to his sources, the Almasy boy spent the day in the library, studying a book that he'd brought with him, and had taken with him when he left.  Every so often, he'd consult another text, presumably as a reference, but for the entire day he focused his attention on the one large volume.

Seifer procured this book, he assumed, on his trip to Cid Kramer's private library, located in the lower levels of the Garden.  This intrigued the General for, try as he might to conceal it, the Headmaster had some special interest in Seifer.  Why Cid made such a point of weaving a web around Seifer, Mallis didn't know, but like all things, he would learn in time.

He turned his attention next to the daily report on Squall's activities.  These always proved less interesting than Seifer's – Squall spent most of his time training or running SeeD.  His actions seemed more predictable, yet Mallis couldn't afford to stop watching him. 

"Death itself fears him," he said aloud, quoting an ancient Centra proverb, "for he has the heart of a lion."

*          *

"I just don't know, Xu," Quistis sighed, leaning across her bed, "this resolution sounds good and everything, but it's not exactly easy to just 'get over' someone you've loved for years."

"And no one thinks it should be," Xu replied, curled up in a chair on the other side of the room.  "We just want to see you learn that you can be happy without Squall."

Quistis sighed again.  "I know.  Seifer completely has the right idea, but I'm somewhat at a loss when it comes to implementing this resolution."

"What do you mean?"

"I... I can't help it.  I still love Squall.  He's... radiant.  Every time I see him, I feel lifted, and I know that I'll never be able to love anyone else.  Then I picture him at the SeeD ball, dancing with Rinoa.  You could see the peace in his eyes.  For the first time in maybe his whole life, Squall was at peace, and it was all because of her.  I see them together, and it destroys me.  Why does she make him happy, when I'm not even allowed to try?"

Her face fell to the floor for a moment, and a moment of sheer panic gripped her heart as she felt a profound sense of failure wash over her.  Quistis had never learned to tolerate anything she perceived as a personal weakness.  With all her achievements and her knowledge of Squall, she'd never managed to register as a blip on his radar, and that, to her, could count as nothing but failure.

"Because he deserves someone like her.  Squall deserves a princess.  Someone who can offer him a life other than bloodshed and violence.  While I'd like to be that person, I'm a SeeD at heart, and nothing will change that.  Every time I see Rinoa, I just want to hide.  I don't have her looks.  I don't have her voice.  I don't have her temperament.  Whatever it is he likes, I just can't compete."  Her eyes traveled across the room to her bulletin board where her lone picture of Squall hung in the sunlight.

"And what kills me is the way he doesn't even notice me.  You and I are used to that, Xu.  Everybody's big sister, everybody's best friend.  We're the girls you just don't think of 'that way.'  But with Squall, it's different.  Unless there's a mission to run, I may as well be invisible.  His world centers around Rinoa."

"Quistis, are you listening to yourself?  Do you realize what you sound like?"

"What do you mean?" Quistis asked, wondering if she should feel offended.

"Seifer's right.  Pining away like this can't be healthy.  I mean, a schoolgirl crush is one thing, but this has gone way beyond that stage."

"You're right," Quistis snapped, perhaps a little more hastily that she would have liked.  "This isn't a crush.  This is love.  I love Squall."

"No, but you think you do."

"How would you know, Xu?  You're not in love."

Xu flinched slightly.  "No, I'm not.  But Seifer is, I agree with him completely."

"Okay," Quistis said, her voice starting to tremble.  "Let's just... forget I brought this up, okay?  All I meant was that it's hard changing after all these years."

"Look," Xu replied, walking over to the bed and kneeling beside it, "I don't mean to be harsh here, and I'm sorry if you feel like I'm betraying you.  But I think Seifer knows what he's talking about.

"I may not be experienced with men, Quisty, but one thing I know is that love is supposed to be shared.  It's the proverbial two-way street.  Squall may respect you, but you have to acknowledge the fact that he doesn't love you, at least not in the way you want him to.  So if you don't want to call this a crush, then let's settle on 'infatuation,' or something like that.  But let's not call it love, or act as though Squall represents your only chance at happiness.  Okay?"

Quistis looked at her friend for a long moment.  "Okay."  Another moment passed.  "So what is it I'm supposed to do?"

"I'm going to give you a mission," Xu replied.  "Phase one: I want you to practice _not_ using the word 'love' with reference to Squall.  It sounds silly, but it's a start.  If you let yourself believe that you'll never care about anyone else, you'll spend the rest of your life wasting away in his shadow."

Quistis nodded.  "And phase two?"

"I want you to think about what happened that night that Seifer took you out.  When you stopped worrying about what Rinoa has that you don't have, you were able to have fun.  The less you obsess over Squall, the more this will happen. You don't have to stop caring about him overnight, just... stop obsessing."

Quistis nodded once more.  "Is there a phase three?"

"Yes," Xu answered.  "Go to the bathroom and wash your face.  You've been on the verge of tears for far too long."

Quistis did so, and spent a long moment looking at herself in the mirror, forcing herself to acknowledge the truth of Xu's words.  When she finally felt composed enough to face her friend, she stepped back in her room, barely having the chance to duck as a pillow came screaming toward her head.

"Defend yourself, Trepe!" Xu challenged from her position standing atop the bed, hurling another pillow at the blonde woman.  "I don't think you're nearly as tough as they say."

Quistis deftly caught this pillow and smiled, grimly at first, but then with growing excitement.  She clutched the pillow by the case and twirled it, sneering at her friend's challenge.

"Let's dance."


	20. The Fire Inside

"Mind if I sit with you, Quistis?" Seifer asked, setting his tray down opposite hers.

"Not at all," she replied, glancing around the bustling cafeteria.  Seifer's tray consisted of a small sandwich and salad combination.  "No hot dogs?  For once, they aren't sold out."

Seifer rolled his eyes.  "Ugh.  It's bad enough hearing about the medicinal value of hot dogs morning, noon, and night.  I prefer to keep a little more balanced diet.  Why aren't you having any?"

"Because," she grinned.  "_I _know what goes into the things.  That alone is enough to keep me far away from them.  I don't know how Zell can stomach so many of them."

"He has a cast-iron stomach," Seifer shot back.  "He never gets indigestion and he never gains weight.  Somehow, he just metabolizes all the garbage he eats.  It's a miracle."

Quistis nodded.  "Not meaning to overstep my bounds here, but his taste for food is even worse than his taste for fashion."

Seifer groaned.  "Don't remind me.  A few days ago, he found these pants in a catalogue..."

"The ones where the legs are different lengths, right?" she smiled.

"Yes!  He won't shut up about them!"

They ate their lunches for a moment, enjoying the companionable silence.  Eventually, Quistis spoke.

"So, how are you enjoying the _History?"_

Seifer's weary eyes lit up at the mention of his family's chronicle.  "Best thing I've ever read.  I can't believe I have such a family background.  I feel like I understand so much now.  I feel like I have a past."

"I thought you might," she smiled.  "If you'd been a little nicer to me when we were younger, I might have given you that book years ago."

"But I understand it so much more now than I would have then!" he exclaimed.  "Now I know where my impulses come from – my drive to be a knight, my service to Edea.  It's like I was living out the course my family charted for me."  Quistis, munching on an apple, nodded in thought.

"How are you doing other than that?" she inquired.  "Zell's yelled at me more than once.  Seems you've been neglecting your health in favor of the book.  And I'll wager you're neglecting Zell, too."

"Yeah.  He likes to make a fuss about it, but he knows how much this means to me.  I've always been jealous that he got to have a family, but no one ever wanted me.  If I go far enough in this book, I might find out what happened to my parents.  Or at least get a clue of where to start looking."

"Just make sure you don't wither away while chasing your ancestry.  Zell would never forgive me if something happened to you."

"I know, I know," he mumbled.  "As it is, I'm already taking part of my leave so I can dedicate more time to the book.  It was tough writing out the request form without drawing attention to myself."

"So what'd you write?" she asked.  "What reason did you give?"

"Oh, don't worry," he said, sliding his tray away from him.  "I shifted all the blame to you.  I said I wanted time off so I could study the book you stole from Cid's private library, which you obtained using a card you stole from his desk."

"Well, as long as we have our stories straight."

"Anyway," he continued, lowering his voice, "I think some time off will do me some good."

"Why?"

"This is just between us," he said, leaning in close to her.  "The only other person who knows what I'm going to tell you is Zell, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Of course," she nodded.

"When I'm in combat, by myself, I keep having these... blackouts."  The weight in his voice told her Seifer did not consider this a petty issue.

"Such as?"

"Well, it's like I get this buzzing in my head.  Like static.  And all of a sudden, everything starts to fall away from me.  I feel myself going on auto-pilot.  Then I come back, and all the enemies are dead or fleeing.  And it always seems like I've gone overboard."  He paused.  "And it's starting to scare me.  Does that mean anything to you?"

Quistis sat, tapping one fingernail against her perfect teeth.  After a moment, she said, "You know, of course, of the legends of the berserk warriors of Trabia, right?"

"Yeah," he answered, "but it's nothing like that.  I don't taste blood or scream or anything.  At least, I don't think I do.  I just... go away.  And come back.  And somewhere in between, the violence happens."

"Okay, so it's probably not that," she said.  "The berserkers always retained memories of their actions, which is why they've left such an extensive body of literature."

"No," he shook his head.  "I don't have any memory of what happens.  But, usually, afterwards, I get these weird dreams."

"Tell me about them," Quistis, with her background in psychology, adopted a neutral face, so as not to influence Seifer.  He closed his eyes, deep in thought.

"They're vague.  Shadowy.  Less like dreams, more like... memories.  Blood.  Death.  Rage."

"Can you be any more specific?"

He closed his eyes, clenching them shut as he focused.  "No.  When I wake up, it's gone.  I remember having had the nightmare and being terrified, and my heart's racing and I can't get back to sleep."  Quistis took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose as she considered Seifer's words.  "So whaddya think?" he asked, smiling weakly.  "Are you going to report me as unfit for duty?"

"No," she said, smiling, and placing her hand over his.  "I just need some time to do a little research.  Try to stay calm, and avoid fights, and as soon as I have something for you, I'll be in touch."  She stood up, picking up her tray and walking away from the table, already deep in thought.

"Quistis?" he called after her.  She turned.  "Thanks."


	21. A New Man

Quistis closed her eyes for a moment, trying to rid her field of vision of the tiny specks that danced before her.  She took a few deep breaths and flexed some of her sore muscles.  Long ago, she'd taught herself how to relax after long hours of study, and this ability proved useful once again.

After making sure she could continue, she turned to the books spread out on the table in front of her.  They sat amid a pile of papers that spilled over onto the floor, consuming the majority of the available space.  They comprised page after page of notes, all culled after hours of effort from the volume she'd almost finished translating.

"Okay, Trepe," she whispered to herself, "focus."

More long hours passed as Quistis continued to make careful notes in her tiny, precise hand.  A growing sense of horror filled her as the text revealed its secrets, but she forced herself to press on, needing to finish the work before jumping to conclusions.  She hoped Cid didn't make a trip to his library while she worked; she'd never taken this many books at once before, and he could notice their absence.

*          *

Squall stepped off the _Ragnarok, _weary from the mission that had just ended.  He'd taken a team of cadets to the mountains near Winhill to clear out a cave infested with monsters.  The inhabitants proved more resilient than the initial scout of the area indicated, and Squall had to cover the retreat of the younger students while attempting to complete the mission.  As he stepped off the ship, he focused his attention on taking a shower and a quick nap, not necessarily in that order.

"Squall," Cid's clipped voice called out over the din of the unloading procedure.  Squall could detect the controlled anger in the Headmaster's tone, even before the older man said, "Squall, come here at once."

Squall set down the case containing Lionheart and crossed over to his superior, saluting.  "Sir."

"Where are reports from Avatar?  I requested them several hours ago."  Cid pursed his lips and put on his "waiting for an explanation" face.

"Yes, sir," Squall said, "I'll have them on your desk in ninety minutes.  I just want to..."

"Unacceptable!" Cid roared.  "I want them now.  Go to your office and prepare them at once!"

"You would have them right now had you not sent me on the Winhill mission," Squall's eyes blazed.

"I don't want excuses, Leonhart!" Cid's face had turned a bright shade of crimson by now.  "I want those damn reports.  You have twenty minutes to do your duty, or I'll find someone who can!  Are we clear?"  As Cid turned to stalk out of the hanger, he noticed everyone staring at his outburst.  "Back to work," he screamed, "or I'll have you all thrown in the detention center!"

Squall started to salute Cid's retreating form, but realized the pointlessness of his action, and didn't bother.  Instead, he picked up Lionheart and trudged toward his office.

*          *

Seifer tried his hardest to keep his pulse under control.  As he neared the final pages of the _History,_ he felt himself closing in on the answers he sought.  He'd followed the trail of the Almasy line all the way to his grandparent's generation – the last chroniclers in the book, and had a sensation in his gut that the next page, detailing the Sorceress War, would reveal the truth about his parents.  When Seifer turned the page, he saw that his grandfather's words gave way to Cid's handwriting.

_Xavier Almasy.  Aid to Vinzer Deling I of Galbadia.  When Galbadia's Coalition of Allied Generals imprisoned Deling, Xavier organized the propaganda movement responsible for Deling's release.  Continued to serve as aid and agent through Deling's reign.  Deceased, Sorceress War._

_Luna Almasy, nee Merraine.  Married Xavier Almasy and gave birth to two children.  Deceased, Sorceress War._

_Lily Almasy.  Daughter of Xavier and Luna.  Deceased, Sorceress War._

_Seifer Almasy.  Son of Xavier and Luna.  Arrived at orphanage.  Sent to Balamb Garden._

And there the _History _ended.  Seifer's mind whirled as he tried to process this information: he now had names to go along with his parents.  And a sister, which he'd never imagined.  

A knock at the door startled Seifer.  "Yeah?" he called out.

Almost at once, Quistis came bursting into the room, her hair unkempt and eyes bloodshot.  She clutched a large satchel.  "We need to talk," she said breathlessly, "and it needs to be somewhere safe."

"Quistis!" Seifer sang out.  "I finished the book!  I have a family, and it's all thanks to you."

"Look, Seifer, there's time for gratitude later.  Right now, we have more urgent matters to discuss.  Somewhere safe.  I cannot stress that enough."

The triple chime of the intercom cut off further conversation.  "First Team, please report to the briefing room.  First Team to briefing room."

"Damn it!" Quistis swore.  "We'll continue this later."

*          *

The call to action caught everyone off guard.  No one in the briefing room, Squall included, knew what mission Cid planned to throw their way.  The Headmaster, when he came through the doors, still had a cigarette in his mouth and his eyes had long since gone bloodshot.

"Time is short, so let's get to it," Cid snapped.  "You all know Dobe, mayor of Fisherman's Horizon.  Avatar has just reported," he waved a folder, "that he's working with the Galbadian government and plotting against us.  I want you to go to FH and kill him.  Following that, I want you to raze the city.  That is all."  Cid immediately turned and began to leave the room.

"Sir?" Squall asked after him.  Cid whirled, throwing the folder at the wall behind Squall's head.

"Did you fail to understand your orders, Squall, or is this more of your insubordination?  Because, I warn you, you're on dangerously thin ice, and I can think of a few other SeeDs who might be deserving of a promotion.  So get to the ship.  Now!" Cid punctuated his last order by slamming his fist onto the table.  This done, he left.

"What the hell...?" Seifer whispered.

"Not here," Squall cut him off.  "Board the ship."  Squall stepped out of the room, not looking back, and heading in the direction of the dormitory wing.

"What is going on here?" Zell asked aloud, voicing the question on everyone's mind.

As the team discussed the interchange between Cid and Squall, Quistis knelt on the floor, picking up the scattered sheets of paper from where Cid had thrown them.  The folder contained blank contract forms and expense accounts for school supplies.  But not a single intelligence report.

*          *

Squall boarded the _Ragnarok _last, Lionheart in tow and Rinoa following at his heels.  She had an overnight bag with her, and her Shooting Star strapped to her arm.

"Why is...?" Quistis started to ask, but Squall cut her off, holding one finger to his lips.

Squall pointed to a seat and Rinoa sat down, looking highly worried.  Everyone else just looked confused.  From Rinoa's bag, Squall produced a small white board and a marker to go with it.  He moved to the front of the cabin and, on it, he wrote, "Act normal.  But Rinoa is not here_._"  He underlined the word "not" three times.  After making sure everyone saw this first message and understood it, he erased it, and wrote a new one in its place:  "We will not be going to FH.  We will be going to Esthar."  This done, he left for the cockpit.

*          *

"Hi everyone," Laguna said as they left the _Ragnarok.  _"Is everything okay, Squall?"

"No.  I need two more favors, Laguna."

"Whatever I can do to help," he replied, face creased with concern.  As they spoke, one of Laguna's security teams moved in to clean the ship of any bugging devices.

"Get Rinoa to somewhere safe.  Somewhere that isn't with us."

"Squall," Rinoa protested, "I want to stay with you guys.  I want to help."

"No," Squall said.  "It's not safe with us, and I'm not putting you in danger.  Second, we need a place to talk, one where no one will listen in on us."

"Use my office," Laguna answered, "it gets swept for bugs daily."

"Thanks," Squall said, extending a hand to his father.

*          *

When the group hit Laguna's office, Selphie immediately ran towards the desk and hopped in Laguna's chair.  Somehow, thanks to the gravity of the situation, she managed to contain her impulse to spin in it.

"Okay," she said when everyone had entered the room, "will someone finally explain what's going on?"

"Good question, Sephie," Irvine said, walking to the massive windows behind the desk.  "You wanna enlighten us, Squall?"

Squall took a long, slow look around the room.  "This conversation puts you in danger.  Now's the time to leave."

A minute passed, and no one moved.

"We're all with you, Squall," Quistis said.  "What's going on?"

"Cid's irrational and paranoid."

"Just a little," Seifer muttered from his seat on the couch.

"And this mission is the proof of it.  Dobe is no threat to us."

"What do you mean?" Xu asked.  "What do you know?"

"Nothing," Squall shot back, "and that's exactly the point.  I have full access to SeeD's intelligence network, and if Dobe were up to something, I'd know about it.  That, and there's just no way he's working with Galbadia.  He's a pacifist.  He wouldn't conspire with them.  I'm sure of it."

"I have to agree," Nida added. "I've known Mayor Dobe all my life, and he'd never collaborate with Galbadia."

"None of my agents in FH have said anything either," Selphie supplied.

"So what do we do?" said Zell.

"We wait," Squall replied, "we defy his orders and go back to Garden, claiming we failed this mission."

"Squall had me broadcast an emergency message before we changed course," Nida explained.  "As far as Garden knows, we've put in here for repairs on the _Ragnarok._"

"And while we're here," Squall continued, "Mayor Dobe catches wind of our presence and escapes, leaving him beyond our reach.  We return to Garden for further orders."

"But Squall," Selphie said, "Cid's getting pretty close to firing you.  He said it himself."

"No way!" Irvine exclaimed.  "If Cid moves against Squall, there'll be an uprising.  Cid knows that."

Squall nodded.  "I'm just hoping he's not too far gone."

Seifer stood up and started to pace.  After a moment, he said, "But what happens after that?  We go back to Garden, failures, and Cid yells at you for a while.  What's the next step?"

Squall took another long look around the room.  "This is the point of no return.  From here on out, we're traitors."

Quistis cut in without hesitating.  "Squall, we all stand behind you.  Talk."

"We go back to Garden and prepare to bring Cid down."


	22. The Art of the Possible

The group's attention, focused on Squall, dissolved in an instant.  Quistis retreated within herself to consider Squall's words.  Xu and Seifer discussed the implications of Squall's statement.  Zell stared.  Squall stood still, waiting for everyone to return to the topic at hand.  After a few moments of the scattered discussions, a shrill whistle cut through the noise.

  
"Hey!" Irvine exclaimed.  "Squall's not done yet.  Let the man finish."

Squall nodded his thanks to Irvine and continued.  "We all have work to do.  Before we do anything, we need to know who's worth our time, who we can trust."

"Whaddya mean?" asked Zell.

"I need to know who we can bring into this conspiracy when it comes down to the wire.  Who'll fight for Cid, who'll fight for us.  Who's strong enough to be of use.  What skills we'll have on our side. Who we take with us if we have to flee."

Quistis looked up.  "So what are you proposing?"

"I need you all to start going through the files at Garden, to figure out who we want on our side.  Quistis, I want you to tackle the academic records.  Find the brightest students, the cadets with the highest scores, the most gifted magic users.  We'll need to be well-rounded to make this work."

"Got it," she said.

"Zell, you're in charge of the physical aspect.  The toughest fighters.  Make sure you get a good balance of fighting styles when you're choosing people.  Irvine, you work with Zell.  We may need to conduct a surprise raid on the arsenal, so I want plans in place."  Irvine nodded and touched the brim of his hat.  "Selphie, you're in charge of the junior cadets.  When the fighting starts, I want to evacuate them as quickly as possible, get them out of the line of fire.  That's your responsibility."

"Right," Selphie answered.

"Nida, you keep both eyes on the _Ragnarok._  Make sure it's ready to go at short notice.  It may be our only hope for getting the kids out.  Seifer, you handle security.  If you think things are getting dangerous, pull the plug."

"Understood."

"Everyone submits their reports to Xu, and she and I will compile them.  We'll find one person for every seat on the _Ragnarok _and hope that's enough.  Questions?"  No one moved.  Everyone wore a look of deep contemplation.  "Right.  We're done, then."

"Wait," Quistis said.  "There's something else."

"What is it?" Selphie asked.

Quistis stood up, and began to circle the room, still clutching the satchel that hadn't left her grasp since Balamb Garden.

"Okay, this is pretty huge, so I have to ease into it.  Just bear with me.  When I was thirteen, I stole a keycard from Cid's office.  It got me access to some of the lower levels, where Cid has his private library.  Seifer needed me to do some research, and I remembered a book I'd seen, written in code.  So I set myself to translating it.

"Turns out, after he graduated from the Esthar College of Magic, Cid got a position as a researcher with Dr. Odine.  This was during the time that Odine was developing para-magic"

"Was Cid," Squall asked, speaking though clenched teeth, "one of the people who conducted tests on Ellone?"

"No.  As far as I can tell, Cid didn't meet Ellone until she came to the orphanage.  He was working in another of Odine's research departments.

"The thing you have to know about Odine is that he's extremely paranoid.  People from one team don't know who's on the other teams.  Each researcher is required to keep their work in a personalized code, just to further compartmentalize the staff.  Odine likes it best if the left hand doesn't know what the right hand is doing."

"So what does any of this have to do with us?" said Irvine, leaning up against Laguna's desk.

"A lot," Quistis answered, pulling pages out of her satchel.  "This all comes from Cid's private journal, which he also kept in code.  He started keeping it when Odine transferred him away from general research staff."  She started reading off entries.

"'Transferred into Odine's Special Projects Division.  Active research much more exciting than simple data collection.  Odine has agreed to meet with me to hear my new ideas.'

"'Met with Odine today.  Creepy as always.  He likes the new ideas.  Wants me to draw up a formal proposal for him to review.  Possible presentation before Adel.  Very exciting.'

"'Started research with time magic.  Limitless potential.  One of Odine's teams is working with time magic.  If I'm caught, no telling what he'll do.'

"'Managed to throw my mind back in time.  Witnessed the Lunar Cry that devastated Centra.  This knowledge will be useful in tracking the Crystal Pillar.'

"'Attempted to reach forward in time.  First effort unsuccessful, will try again tomorrow.'

"'Success!  I have made contact with the future.  There's incredible power there.'

"'Visions of the future at night.  Strange sensation of being followed.'

"'Powerful dream.  Walking through the ruins of a dead city.  Wasteland as far as the eye can see.  Woman with elaborate tattoos there, dressed in feathers.  She sees me and smiles.  Then I wake up.'"

"Ultimecia," Seifer said.  "She always came to me in my dreams."

"It goes on," Quistis continued, "Cid struck a bargain with Ultimecia.  He promised to follow certain instructions of hers, and in return, she'd see that he got all the wealth and power he could want."

"What instructions?" Selphie pressed.

"Well, that ties into the 'new ideas' that Cid presented to Odine.  It seems Cid came up with a comprehensive plan for crafting soldiers, using para-magic, hypnosis, memory obliteration, indoctrination, isolation, you name it.  Everything but drug therapy.  He never got a chance to test his plan out, since all research efforts were quickly focused on the Crystal Pillar."

"But Cid didn't give up on his plan, did he?" Seifer said, giving voice to their collective fear.

"No," she replied, her voice little more than a whisper.  "And for that, he founded SeeD.  Ultimecia's the one who helped him get off the ground.   She told Cid to track down NORG for funding, knowing that NORG's greed would get the better of him."

"So what about the deal?" came the question from Irvine.

"Ultimecia provides Cid with the means to start SeeD, which will keep Cid comfortable for life.  In return, Cid had to provide Ultimecia with a Sorceress's body, a way to manifest in our time..."

"Matron..." Zell whispered.

"There's more.  Cid had to raise a certain group of children, as gifts to Ultimecia.  Those children would grow up to be the leaders of SeeD.  They... we... were to take SeeD on a rampage to make the world over in Ultimecia's image.  But things went... awry. "

"I'll say!" Selphie chirped.  "We kicked her butt!"

Quistis went on, "From Cid's journal, when we were at the orphanage.

"'The last of the children arrived today.  The last of Ultimecia's offerings.  When she arrived, it felt like a key turning in a lock.  I could feel the energy flowing around them.  They, of course, are oblivious to it.  Edea senses their power, but has no idea that three years from today, I'll enact the ritual to bring Ultimecia into this world.  

"'With the arrival of this last child, I know what each of their roles will be.

"'Young Selphie shows a precocious talent for getting into places she doesn't belong.  She has a bright future in espionage.

"'Zell has the heart of a mighty warrior, hidden within the blubbering façade of a crybaby.  Given enough pain, he'll live up to his potential.'"

The sound of Zell's knuckles cracking as he gritted his teeth in rage penetrated the otherwise quiet room.  He and Seifer exchanged a long look.

"'Irvine has already proven his aim.  He almost never misses a throw, no matter what sport the children are playing.  He'll be a valuable sniper.

"'Quistis will be the mind of the group.  She has an eidetic memory, and is already starting to learn several languages.'

"'The brilliance of my plan rests in the rivalry of the two remaining boys, Seifer and Squall.  One has in him the potential to be a great leader, even if he doesn't realize it yet.  I'll train him to be a fierce fighter, utterly without compare.  He'll receive the full benefit of my indoctrination program, and become the perfect warrior.

"'The other, I shall raise in his shadow.  He'll always struggle to prove himself the best, and never succeed.  He'll be the antagonist, the constant thorn.  He'll be the stone with which I sharpen the sword of the leader.  And when I am done, I'll cast Squall aside, and Seifer will lead us all to wealth and power."


	23. Chrysanthemum Tea

Stunned silence ruled Laguna's office.  The silence seemed fragile, as if each of them feared breaking it.  Slowly, though, people started moving again, looking from Squall to Seifer and back again.  But still, no one dared speak.  Eventually, Zell broke the silence, his voice thick.

"You're telling me that Cid..."

Quistis nodded.  "He's been manipulating us since the orphanage.  Shaping us into his strike team."

Silence again.  This time, Seifer spoke, hesitating, "What was that last part again?"

Quistis reread the entry from Cid's journal.  "Basically, Seifer, it says that you were supposed to be the leader of the team, and Squall was supposed to be the..." She trailed off, unsure how to continue.

"The pain in the ass?" Seifer replied, a weak smile on his face.

"More or less."

"So what went wrong?" Selphie asked.  "I mean, if he was in league with Ultimecia, how'd we ever get to the point where we defeated her?"

"I've been working on that," Quistis answered.  "As near as I can figure, Seifer was supposed to pass his first field exam.  He failed because he insisted on saving the life of a civilian instead of concentrating on the mission – that wasn't a part of Cid's plan.  He didn't learn the lesson, however, and made a similar choice at the next field exam, when he saved Rinoa at the expense of the mission objectives.

"The third field exam was the one Squall took, along with Zell and Selphie.  By that point, Seifer should have been one of the SeeDs supervising the operation.  Squall's programming would have led him to act in such a way to fail the field exam, which would result in his running away from Garden.

"In theory, we would have been assigned, as a unit, to track down the renegade Squall.  In order to bring him down, we would have joined forces with the Sorceress.  This would have led events to play out in Ultimecia's favor.  Cid always told Matron he was raising us to fight against Ultimecia.  In truth, he was raising us to fight for her."

"So why didn't Ultimecia destroy Cid when all this went bad?" Nida inquired.

"She had no way of knowing.  By that point, she'd already possessed Edea, and gone out of touch with Cid.  She was using all her energy to stay manifest in our time, and didn't have the strength to contact him.  He knew that once she reestablished contact, she'd destroy him, so his only hope..."

"Was to assassinate the Sorceress," Seifer breathed.  "He double-crossed Ultimecia, too."

"Exactly.  He needed us to destroy her, so that's why he kept us around after we'd 'failed' him.  And ever since then, we've been too high-profile to dispose of."

"I have a question," Irvine shot out.  "If we were supposed to be a team, how come Selphie and I were sent to other Gardens?"

"You two were the control groups.  Selphie had the regular brainwashing treatment, but was sent to Trabia to find out how she'd interact with other troops.  If she'd become a leader, that sort of thing.  You, Irvine, went straight from the orphanage to Galbadia Garden, with no brainwashing at all.  You're the only one of us who hasn't been tampered with."

Zell, patience exhausted, leapt to his feat and began punched the air, his face contorted into an angry snarl.  "That's it!" he exclaimed.  "Cid's a dead man."

"No."  Squall's voice cut through the room like a whip.  "We're not moving against him yet."

"But Squall!" Zell protested. "What he did to you and Seifer..."

"Not now.  We have other things to worry about.  He'll be held accountable.  Just not today."

"But..."

"No, Zell!" Squall snapped.  "We will not take any immediate action against Cid and that is final.  We stick to the plan.  Understood?"  Squall, lightning flashing in his eyes, looked up at Zell, who nodded his assent.  "Good.  Time to head back."

*          *

As the ship tore through the sky, Quistis stood by one of the ship's large windows, watching the ground race past.  Zell stood by the elevator, shadow boxing.  Squall shuffled a set of Triple Triad cards in mechanical repetition.  Selphie and Irvine sat together, drawing strength from each other's presence.  But no one spoke.

As the continent of Esthar sped away from them, Quistis heard footsteps approaching from behind her, and knew, based on the length of the strides that Seifer wanted to speak to her.  She turned to face him, smiling a little, a lump in her throat.

Seifer, on seeing her silhouetted against the enormous backdrop of the midday sky, couldn't help but grin.  He laughed a little, reaching out and mussing her hair.  "Helluva surprise, blondie," he said.  "Helluva surprise."

"I," she opened, glancing at her boot, "I don't know if I made the right decision...  With Cid acting so irrational, Squall setting a contingency coup in motion.  I mean, for me to just throw this on top of the pile is pretty enormous."

Seifer raised an eyebrow.  "And what did you swear to as the fourth precept of being a SeeD?"

They recited the principle together: "To provide my superior officers with the intelligence necessary to make the best possible tactical decisions."

"Exactly," Seifer said.  "And that's what you did.  It may have been harsh, but if it gives us the edge, so much the better."

Quistis nodded, acknowledging the truth of Seifer's words.

"And so here we are, boy," Quistis said, after a moment of silence, "Cid's warrior-pawns.  Nice, isn't it?"

"May I," Seifer started, voice little more than a husky whisper, "May I ask you a few questions about what's happened.  I mean, with Cid and all?"

"Of course," Quistis, answered, taking Seifer's hand.  "I think if anyone's entitled to answers, it's you."

"My blackouts... Cid's brainwashing... how do they relate?"

"Cid was trying to build you into the perfect warrior.  The blackouts were all a part of that.  They were just one of the phases of his brainwashing.  However, the process was imperfect.  He wasn't counting on Ultimecia entering your mind or you ridding yourself of her at such length.  The whole thing has caused the brainwashing to fray.  Remnants of it are still there, but they're starting to come apart."

"What can I do about them?"

"When we get back, I'll sound out Dr. Kadowaki.  I'm pretty sure should wouldn't participate in anything this inhumane.  She should be able to help us put you back on track."

"That's good to know."

"I guess.  Anything else?"

"No...  Yes.  Why does Cid hate me so much?"  Seifer crossed to the other window and looked out, contempt alternating with sorrow written across his face.

"It's in his journal, but I'll let you guess, if you want."

Seifer rolled his eyes, sneering at the absent Headmaster.  "Probably something inane about how I was his chosen one, the leader of his new order, and I spurned the place he offered me.  And, therefore, I am unworthy, etcetera."

Quistis nodded.  "You've certainly got the gist of it."

"You know," Seifer shook his head, "the world sure as hell seemed a lot simpler when I was under the control of an evil Sorceress from the future."

"Yeah.  Like you said, we need this intel to make decisions, but this is not easy to deal with.  I haven't slept since I decoded Cid's journal."

"Somehow, Quisty," Seifer said, watching the ground as the ship streaked back towards Garden, "I don't think I'll ever sleep again."

*          *

With utmost delicacy, Cid pulled a cigarette from out of its case.  He placed it between his eager lips and lit it using a spark from his mind.  The burst of green flame heralded the subtle flavor he always craved.  It filled his nostrils and lungs and soothed him.

General Mallis stood just a few steps behind Cid, ready to do the Headmaster's bidding.  Through his clenched teeth, Cid spoke, emitting a cloud of smoke as he did so.  For a moment, Cid envisioned himself as a malboro, young cadets fleeing in terror at the sight of his smoke.  "Well, General, shall we see how the children did?  If they managed to bring us the head of the traitor Dobe?"

Mallis moved over to one of the control consoles and punched a series of buttons, activating the monitor in the hanger.  It showed Squall's team, in the process of disembarking and unloading the ship.

"Squall," Cid said, voice sweeter than his breath, punctuating his words with a stab of his cigarette, as though the group could see him through the monitor, "kindly have your group report to my office at once."

As the monitor winked off, Cid spun in his chair, facing Mallis once more.  "Make a note, General.  If the actually bring me the head of Dobe, or the heart, or the hands, or what the hell... anything significant, we'll give them a 25% bonus for this mission."

Mallis smiled and made the notation as Cid requested.

Cid, cigarette expended, produced another from his case and lit it, moments before the door to his office slid open, admitting Squall and his team.

"Squall!"  Cid exclaimed, jumping up from behind his chair and pounding both fists on his desk, "my favorite son!  Please, enter, and regale us with the tale of your latest triumph.  The General and I long to hear of how you brought down the tyrant Dobe."

The First Team filed into Cid's office, apprehensive at Cid's enthusiasm.  Well beyond bloodshot, now, his eyes had about them a manic and dangerous aspect.  The group lined up, exactly as they'd done countless times and Squall stepped forward, saluting.

"Sir, I have to report our failure in this mission."

"What?"  Cid roared.  "Explain at once!"

Nida stepped forward.  "I broadcast the message personally, sir.  We experienced engine trouble not for away from FH.  We had to put in at Esthar for repairs."

"By the time we arrived there," Squall continued, "Dobe had been alerted to our presence and managed to escape to Galbadia.  Once the ship was repaired, we returned here for further instructions."

"Incompetent!" Cid bellowed, picking up a glass ashtray from his desk and heaving it at Squall's head.  It passed close enough to ruffle his mane, but Squall did not bother trying to dodge.  "These are your instructions!" Cid screamed, closing with Squall, yelling directly in his face.  "Get out of my sight!  Never darken my doorstep again, you worthless... Get out!"

Cid's gaze expanded to the entire group.  "That goes for all of you.  I don't ever want to see any of you.  And you, General," Cid whirled on the Garden Master as well, "you may leave for the time being.  I need some time alone."

Mallis nodded curtly and turned to Squall's team.  "Come, team.  I think I had best escort you out."

As they left, Cid returned to his desk, trying, in vain, to restore his blood pressure to normal.  Another cigarette, and Cid found himself contemplating the necessary purge of those around him.  Squall's betrayal ran deep, almost as deep as Seifer's.  Cid didn't consider himself a man of arbitrary cruelty, but as an educator, he recognized the need to confront disciplinary problems head-on.  He'd already arranged the next step, and when he reached the step after that...  Well, then they'd pay.

He could hear them in the hall now.  The wretched First Team.  Plotting against him.  At the limits of his powers, he could hear their conversation, banal chatter about returning to their offices, or eating lunch, disguising the true nature of their treachery.

And then, a different sound.  A quick whirring, followed by the shattering of glass.

Then the world exploded.

*          *

A gunshot.  They all recognized it.  They'd heard enough, in their combined lifetimes, to cover an entire shooting range.

They never expected to hear one coming from within the Headmaster's office.

Squall immediately crouched at the side of the door, producing a card from around his neck.  He made a series of hand signals to his friends, counted down from three on his hands, and they sprang into action.

Squall swiped his card through the reader, disabling the lock on the door to the office.  Squall stood up but stayed pressed against the wall, out of the way, so the rest of the team could do their jobs.

Seifer lashed out with his long legs, knocking the door open, allowing Irvine to burst through, guns drawn.  The gunman inside, dressed in a SeeD uniform found himself caught off guard as Irvine screamed "Drop it!"

Zell immediately burst through the door, vaulted over the desk and tackled the gunman, wrestling him to the ground.  

Squall walked into the room and surveyed the scene, looked at the Headmaster, bleeding on the floor.  Quistis and Selphie flanked him.

"Squall?"

"I know what you're thinking, Quistis.  The Dark."

"What can I do, Squall?" Selphie asked.

"Call Dr. Kadowaki.  Tell her the Headmaster's been shot."


	24. Storm Front

General Mallis sat at the head of the conference table, his one eye staring at the communications panel.  All of Garden waited on Dr. Kadowaki's call, and Squall and the General needed an update on the Headmaster's condition before planning their next move.

Squall's team had gathered in the room as well, to await the same announcement.  No one had the energy to discuss the incident in a voice above a whisper.  Quistis crossed the room over to where Seifer and Zell stood huddled together, talking.

"Hi, boys," she whispered.  They both nodded at her and continued looking at whatever else in the room they'd started examining before she'd arrived.

She turned and saw Squall, all his muscles tense, jaw clenched, forehead pressed against the wall of the conference room.

"I think Squall's losing it," she heard Zell whisper in her ear.

"No," Quistis smiled.  "He's pulling it together.  He's just catching his breath so he can be ready for the next step.  He'll be fine."

"You know, Zell," Seifer smirked, gently elbowing his lover in the ribs, "if I didn't know better, I'd think our little Quisty has a crush."

Quistis adopted an innocent schoolgirl's expression.  "Old habits?" she asked, by way of fashioning an excuse.  Seeing the melodramatic scowls painted on the faces of Seifer and Zell, she quickly changed tactics, muttering, "I'm working on it."

"Everyone," said the General, cool voice cutting through the room, "Dr. Kadowaki is contacting us."

Everyone rushed to the conference table.  When they'd all assembled, he pushed the blinking button before him with an almost careless élan.

"Dr. Kadowaki," he said, "what news?"

"Cid's going to be fine," she answered, her voice wavering under the strain, "but he'll probably need to stay here for a matter of weeks, given his health of late, his heart condition, the amount he's been smoking, that sort of thing."

"Understood."  Squall nodded.  "But he will survive the injury?"

"Rest assured, Squall," she replied, and he imagined her removing her glasses and rubbing the bridge of her nose.  "The wound looked much worse than it actually was.  I just want to give his heart a few days to rest and you can come in and inspect things for yourself."

"Hey, um, Doc?" Irvine called out, from the other side of the room, approaching the panel, and leaning on Squall while he talked.  "I have sort of a prickly question here..."

"I had one of the techs examine the bullet while I worked on Cid.  If this is what you're asking, Irvine, it's one of our bullets."

Irvine leaned up against the wall now and pulled his hat down over his face.  As he contemplated the latest turn of events, a muffled, "Hoo boy," emerged from under his hat.

"Any other questions?" asked Dr. Kadowaki.  "This whole affair has taken a lot out of me, and I could use a little rest myself, if you don't mind."

"By all means, doctor," said Mallis.  "You've been most helpful."

The light on the intercom winked off, leaving them in stark contemplation of their situation.  Mallis appeared to settle in for a nap, closing his good eye and the lid over where the other eye once rested in its socket, and folding his hands over his chest.  From that moment on, the General appeared to take no notice of the conversation in the room.  Irvine spoke first.

"So the shooter was wearing our uniform, holding one of our guns, loaded with our ammunition.  Is it safe to assume he's one of our people?"

"He is," Xu answered, pressing a few buttons on her handlink.  "His name's McMurdo.  Quistis has been going over his profile, so I'll defer to her."

Quistis stood up, smoothed her uniform, and pressed a few of the buttons on the panel before her.  The screens on the wall displayed pictures of the cadet in question, and for a moment, Quistis wondered how the fifteen year-old boy felt, held in total containment down in the Dark, deprived of light and sound, in contact only with his intravenous tube, through which he received meals, and the enormous metal chair to which they'd confined him 

As the barrage of routinely measured statistics came up on the screen, Quistis pointed to those she found most relevant.  "McMurdo is a middle-of-the-pack cadet who has never excelled at anything and has never triggered any flags in our system.  Everything we've ever seen out of him screams "team player," and there's nothing at all that indicates that he's capable of mastering the independent thought necessary to plan and carry out and assassination attempt.  All the psych profiles peg him as a total beta wolf."

"So we find the alpha," Squall said.

Without warning, General Mallis's eyes flew open.  A wild grin had crossed his face, but he had the gleam of a hunter in his eye.

"Llyriance..." he hissed, jumping to his feat.  "Think about it," he continued, without waiting for a reaction from the group, "you're a third-rate SeeD cadet who will never amount to anything, when lo, along comes the representative of an enormous military republic.  For one small act of treason, it's fortune and glory, or whatever else Llyriance promised him.  How very elegant."

By this point, Mallis had reached the door to the conference room.

"Sir?" Squall called out.  "Is that what you really believe happened?"

Mallis paused at the door and turned, his grin even wider than before.  "We won't know until we have better intelligence, Squall.  So invite Llyriance over for a little chat, won't you, and we'll ask him."  And the General exited the room, his laughter audible in the hallway.

Everyone looked to Squall, who stared at the floor, fingers tented together.  He looked up gazed around the room.  "Cover of darkness.  Selphie, it's your show."

She nodded, face grave.  "Xu, we'll need the high-end covert items."

"Should I start prepping the ship again?" asked Nida.

"No, replied Selphie, mind whirling.  "It's too high-profile.  We'll travel by boat and then by van once we hit land.  Anyway, everyone's free for three hours while I draw up the mission profile.  Reassemble in the briefing room."

*          *

Quistis strode into the briefing room to find Selphie still tapping away at the console, her face illuminated in the eerie green glow of the monitor.  It projected a rotating image of Llyriance's three-story estate, along with a series of color-coded lines, denoting points of infiltration.  A smile of grim pride on her face, Selphie stepped back and pressed a button, watching the simulation run.  She let the program repeat three times before she cancelled its progress.

"Booyaka," she whispered to herself, satisfaction in her voice.

Quistis walked over to the rest of the group, examining the open containers of equipment.

"Have you ever seen such a thing of beauty?" Irvine asked, holding out an air taser for Quistis's inspection.  "The obligatory long shot, followed by a standard conversion into a stun gun.  In both modes, it consistently delivers more than 50, 000 volts, more than enough to fell any human.  Llyriance's guards are going to get quite the introduction to the business end of this little gem."

"Not so fast, cowboy," Selphie called out, walking over to the center table and calling up the mission profile.  "We're pulling out all the stops to make this a stealth mission.  So if that means no shooting anyone with the shiny new taser, then you'll just have to cope with that.

"Anyway," she continued, "not everyone's coming along, but I wanted to keep us all on the same page for this mission, since things have been so out of control lately."  She took a quick look around the room, making sure she had everyone's attention before she plunged ahead into the mission description.

"The basic idea is that we're going to use two boats to sail to the Galbadian continent, approach Llyriance's estate in two vans – Nida will be driving one, with one of the SeeDs under his command in the other.  He'll stay in the van and provide mission support while Irvine, Seifer, Zell, and I, do the rest.  We'll hit Llyriance's house, knock out the power, and kidnap him, bringing him back to the van and returning him to Garden before sunrise.  Security should be light, but we're taking no chances, hence the tasers.  We're also bringing heavy tranquilizers so Llyriance can't fight us once we find him.

"Now, let me give out assignments to the people who are staying behind.

"Quistis, go do what you need to do to work in the Dark.  I know it'll be grueling, and we don't know how long you'll be down there, so go make your preparations.

"Xu, double-duty: just rest and work.  I hate to put so much responsibility on you, but you know you're the lifeblood of this place."

Slowly, Selphie crossed over to Squall.  She slowly wrapped her arms around him.  "Go to Rinoa.  Go spend some time alone.  Go sleep.  But take care of yourself.  We need you, Squall.  Just... try to find some time to regain your strength, okay?"

Squall nodded his comprehension and pressed his hand on the back of Selphie's head.

"Selphie?" called out Nida.  "The ships are ready to depart whenever we arrive at the harbor."

Selphie stepped away from Squall and called out to the group, "Okay, team, time to move out.  Your gear will be waiting onboard the ships."  So saying, she caught Irvine's hand and started her purposeful stride toward Garden's parking garage.  Quistis ran her hand through her hair and thought of her office.

*          *

Quistis let out an enormous sigh and transferred her attention from the forms in front of her to the leather satchel hanging by the door, a reminder of Cid's monstrous treachery.  No matter how much she wished to destroy the thing, she knew it would prove a key piece of evidence in bringing the Headmaster to justice.

Distracted by the bag for long enough, she grabbed it, crossed to her wall safe, and threw the satchel inside, slamming the door shut with great satisfaction.  She spun the wheel, turned the lever, and murmured a few words under her breath.  The air in front of the safe shimmered blue for a moment, promising her that its contents would stay safe for the present.  A buzz at the door caught her attention, and she reached over to admit the visitor.

The door slid open to allow Tia to enter the room – once Quistis's most gifted junior cadet, now a full cadet for all of a week.  She beamed with pride in her new uniform as she entered Quistis's office.

"Tia, I appreciate your coming so late."

"Not at all, Instructor Trepe, thank you for the invitation" Tia replied.

Quistis gestured to a seat.  "Please, come in.  Sit down."

The girl smiled slightly, red hair falling around her shoulders as she descended the three stairs into the office.  She and Tia took their proper places on opposite sides of the desk, the redhead with her small hands clasped.

"Before you start, Instructor...?"

"Please," Quistis interrupted, "call me Quistis, "and don't sit at attention.  It's 1:00 A.M.  What would you like to say?"

"Did you get a chance to read the report on the mission I ran into the Grandidi Forest?"

Quistis sighed heavily.  "I confess I have not.  Recent events, before and since, the Headmaster's assault have kept me from doing anything but performing my most basic duties.  I've even had to hand off most of my classes onto other SeeDs so I could contend with missions and... outside projects.  But, I'd be glad to check now."

Quistis donned her glasses and accessed the Garden Network, navigating through the menus to the repository storing Tia's mission.  She entered her security code and read the report, then turned to Tia, removing her glasses again.  Before Quistis could even open her mouth, the younger girl started speaking.

"Now, I realize that as a pure capture mission, it failed.  But I urge you to look at it from a broader perspective.  Before we knew nothing about this creature, aside from a few sketchy reports in a magazine.  Now we have detailed facts brought back by a veteran SeeD field team..."

"Led," Quistis grinned, leaning forward, "by a thirteen year-old cadet."

"Junior cadet, actually," Tia rebutted, "I hadn't yet been promoted.  At any rate.  We tracked the creature to its lair, engaged it in combat, and wrote up extensive post-battle reports.  In short, we formed the basis for further study of this being."

"So what are you getting at?"

Tia glanced away for a moment, worried.  She took a deep breath before turning back.  "I just feel so awful about failing this mission.  I mean, I know you took this to Commander Leonhart as a personal favor to me, and I don't want to get you in trouble for it, and I don't want it to go down as a failure on my record..."

"Tia, please," Quistis cut in, cutting her off, her voice gentle, "you're fine.  You're not in trouble.  First, you need to know that live capture missions on an unknown creature are the hardest kind of mission you can take on.  They almost never occur, so they're almost impossible to prepare for, plus, even once you're ready, how do you know what to pack, since you don't know what to use against the creature?

"Second, SeeD doesn't traditionally run these sorts of missions.  We don't really have the facilities for dissecting monsters.  If you'd bagged this thing, we would have just brought him here, sold him to the labs in Esthar – giving you a personal cut of that sale – waited until they'd released their reports, and then let one of our spies in the Presidential Palace pass the information along to us.

"Third, and perhaps most important, your first mission doesn't have to be about success.  It's just about going out into the field and learning about working in a team.  It doesn't have to be a quest to increase the body of scientific knowledge or to prove your worth.  Commander Leonhart and I didn't expect you necessarily to succeed or to fail.  We knew that you'd learn from it, and that's why we signed off on the mission

"But, really, it's getting late.  We must turn to the real reason you're here."

Once more, Tia folded her hands primly in her lap.

"Yes, Inst...  Sorry, Quistis.  What can I do for you?"

Quistis tilted her head back and regarded the ceiling for a moment, before bringing her eyes back down to the younger girl.  "First of all, the conversation, after this point, is absolutely confidential.  If you repeat any part of the conversation to any unauthorized person, you will be subject to emergency punishment proceedings, outside of those contained in the normal SeeD judiciary process.  Understood?"

Tia nodded, puzzled by this warning.

"Good," Quistis continued.  "Now, as you may expect, there's a lot going on with the attempt on the Headmaster's life.  To be perfectly honest, those of us on the First Team had our hands full before this happened, so, as you can imagine that this latest development has left us a little swamped.

"Now, the good news is that we have the shooter in custody.  We haven't released that little tidbit to the general populous."

"Really?" Tia interrupted.  "Where is he?"

"The Dark," Quistis replied.  "Are you familiar with it?"

"I've heard the name, but... not really."

"Well, you know that there are levels that exist down below the Garden proper.  The MD level, which houses the machinery that runs this Garden.  Below that, the level we used for Seifer's Tribunal – it used to be the chamber for Garden Master NORG.  The Dark is on one of the lower levels as well.  We use it when we need to interrogate someone particularly vital to the success of a mission.  You can see why the shooter falls into this category.  And this is why I need your help."

Tia's eyes narrowed as the tried to judge Quistis's statement.  "I'm not sure I follow."

"Well, I have to be the interrogator.  I'm the entirety of SeeD's psychological operations department.  There was another student, but things went... awry.    Anyhow, I have no way of telling how long I'll be down there questioning our would-be assassin.  Could be less than a day, could be weeks.  Either way, I won't be able to leave the Dark until I'm finished.  That means I'll need someone to cover my classes.  I already have people to cover my cadet classes.  I need you to teach my junior cadets."

"But I was a junior cadet just a week ago!"

"Good," Quistis responded, smiling "then it should all be fresh in your mind.  Are you up to it?"

"Well, of course!" Tia exclaimed, shock and glee and fleeting bits of horror mixing on her face.

"Excellent," Quistis reached for the bracelet at her wrist, from which dangled the gold-and-silver emblem of a SeeD Instructor.  She removed it and handed it over to the redhead, saying, "You have command."

Instantly adopting the ritual solemnity the moment demanded, Tia clasped the bracelet onto her own small wrist, replying with, "I have command."

"Thank you, Tia.  If you need any help, just get in contact with one of the members of the First Team, and explain the situation."

Tia rose, and headed for the door.  At the top of the stairs, she paused and turned to Quistis, "I hope you get the answers out of this guy.  For all of us."

Quistis nodded in reply.  "I'll do my best.  And I promise that when all of this is over, you can run another mission into the forest, and I'll be the first to sign up to help you capture that thing."

Tia smiled at Quistis, turned sharply, and left the office.

Quistis, weary from the last few hours of preparations, left her desk and reached into one of the small closets of her office, producing a compact sleeping bag.  She spread it out on the floor, wasting no time in falling asleep on it.

In what seemed like moments, the phone on her belt rang.  Her eyes flew open as she grabbed at the device, answering it, "Yes?"

"Quistis?" came Squall's voice.  "Meet us at the front gate."

*          *

The sunrise rushed in through the main gate of Balamb Garden as Quistis arrived, finding her friends waiting.  Selphie, Zell, and Irvine still wore their black stealth suits from the mission, while Squall and Xu appeared to have changed their clothes in the intervening hours.

"Llyriance is being taken to the Dark," Squall said, not turning to face her.  "We're preparing him for interrogation."  He turned to face the rising sun, as though his simple admission might answer any questions on her mind.  Still, she knew he'd keep his own counsel, so she didn't pursue it any further.

"Okay, Squall," Zell blurted out, "since no one else seems curious, I'll do the asking: what the hell are we doing here, and where the hell is Seifer?  I mean, I know he made it back from Galbadia okay, so where is he?"

Squall smiled one of his secret smiles, and then pointed into the distance, where three figures walked the road leading to Balamb Garden.  "Interrogating Llyriance is going to be an intense job, and things won't be any simpler for us from there on out.  I want Quistis fighting at full strength, so I'm getting someone else to interrogate the shooter, which is where Seifer has gone."

The words slammed into Quistis with deadly force.

"What?" she exclaimed.  "I can interrogate McMurdo without any problems and be back on my feet in no time."

Squall, instead of addressing the entire group, now focused on Quistis.  She felt her entire world melt away, and could feel nothing but the two of them.  In the past, she'd found this power of Squall's romantic, but now, coupled with the storm in his eyes, she had to fight the urge to back away.

"Not up for debate."

A flurry of emotions ran through Quistis.  She felt hurt and betrayed, but at the same time knew Squall had no intension of slighting her with his decision.  He made his call from a strategic standpoint and knew that Quistis, of all his comrades, would understand and support him in that philosophy.

"Understood," she said.

"Look!" yelled Zell.  "It's our mystery guests."  Then, yelling into the distance, "Hey, Seifer!  Who you got with you?"

Seifer yelled back, answering, "It's a reunion.  Hope you have your party hats."

The large muscular man to the left of Seifer leapt in the air and crowed.  "Totally!  The posse is back together again, ya know?"

The thin, silver-haired woman with an eye patch looked over at her friend and hissed, "DOLT."

Squall stepped forward, prompting the rest of his group to follow him.  They neared the posse and halted, while Squall produced two documents.

"Raijin and Fujin, former SeeD cadets.  You deserted Balamb Garden.  But we need you.  These papers reinstate you as cadets eligible to take the next field exam."  Squall took the next few steps forward and handed them the documents.  Without waiting for them to look over the papers, he turned and walked toward back toward Garden, the whole entourage following him.

The entire group assembled in the lobby.  "Everyone," Squall said, "You're dismissed.  Raijin, report to Xu and she'll set you up with the duty roster, and answer any questions.  Fujin, Quistis, the elevator with me please."

Squall, Quistis, and Fujin filed onto the main elevator.  As soon as the doors slid shut, Squall turned to Fujin and nodded, his voice solemn. "I'm sure you've guessed why we've brought you back."

Fujin nodded at Squall, and then looked at Quistis, her counterpart in psychological operations.

"INTERROGATION."


	25. Interrogation

Squall stepped off the elevator, Quistis and Fujin close at heel.

"Here," Squall said, stopping at a set of massive metal doors, "Dark 1.  Now, just so we're clear on this Fujin, at the first hint of treachery, you will be executed immediately.  Nothing personal, you understand."

Fujin's face remained dispassionate as she nodded, "UNDERSTOOD."

"Good," he answered, producing a small disc, and placing it in Quistis's hands.  "I leave this matter in your charge, then.  Quistis, Llyriance isn't ready for questioning yet, but when the time comes, he's in Dark 2."

As Quistis prepared to access the Dark, Squall receded into the background, the sound of the elevator carrying him back into the day.  She slid the disc into the panel near the door.  The machine processed the disc after Quistis punched in her access code, and then Squall's voice came through, clear and strong.

"Fujin: interrogate Cadet McMurdo.  Find out what, or who, compelled him to assault the Headmaster.  Since you have never worked in the Dark before, Quistis will supervise the initial phases of your interrogation.  You may use, wherever necessary, aggressive questioning.  Proceed."

That said, the enormous doors slid open, their silence menacing, casting light into the room for the first time since McMurdo's imprisonment.  Still, his chair kept him so far from the door that he couldn't see the two women enter.  As they passed through the entrance, Quistis pressed the button to close the door, adding an additional command that it slam shut, startling the young cadet.

"Who... who's there?" he called, fear in his voice.

The women took no further action as they crossed Dark 1, letting their footsteps echo across the cavernous room.  McMurdo heard the sound and wished, for the first time since his confinement, that his solitary punishment could continue.  The fact that they'd broken his solitude meant his execution time drew ever closer.

"Come on," he choked out, trying to sound braver then he felt, "let's get this over with!"

Fujin broke stride with Quistis and stalked over to the chair confining McMurdo.  She listened carefully, hearing his breath quicken as her footsteps neared.  The silver-haired woman leaned down and snarled the word "SOON," into his ear.  That done, she resumed her walk across the room.

Fujin and Quistis stood before another set of large metal doors.  Quistis punched in an access code again and they slid open, revealing a dimly lit elevator.  Dimly lit, Quistis reflected, so that the prisoner in the chair – McMurdo in this case – would not be able to see any light when the door opened.  Cid had planned the disorienting effects of the Dark with care.

They rode the elevator up to the control level, looking down over McMurdo in his confinement.  Quistis pressed a button and activated the lights, in the control room, letting them see, for the first time since entering the Dark, in the normal range.

"These windows are heavily tinted," she explained to Fujin, "so it's impossible to see through them on the ground floor.  Nevertheless, I'll be watching over things for a little while.

"Here," Quistis said, producing a slimmed-down, more sinister version of the handlink Xu carried to keep her in contact with the Garden's main computer, "is the Dark's equivalent of the handlink.  Once you learn it, you won't need me around any more.  It can control all the lights, hypodermic, electric, medical functions...  Anything you can think of.

"And, of course," she continued, producing a folder that, by now, seemed to follow her everywhere, "McMurdo's file, so we can go over it before you start in on him.  What do you think?"

Fujin opened McMurdo's folder and picked up the picture of the fifteen-year-old boy, holding it in front of her face.  She regarded it, bringing it closer, until a corner of the photograph rested on her lips.  She set it down, picking up the first sheet of paper in the file.

"DELIGHTFUL."

*          *

On the floor of the interrogation chamber, Fujin stood before McMurdo, listening to him breathe.  Fujin signaled to Quistis who switched on the lights.  Suddenly, for the first time in days, light came flooding into McMurdo's eyes.  Imprisonment had not changed him for the better.  The intravenous meals, while nutritious, had turned him gaunt.  He'd endured days of sensory deprivation, sleeplessness, and constant anxiety.  And because of the changeless cycle of his days, he had no idea how long he'd spent in the Dark.

"Who're you?" he barked, still trying to maintain his bravado.  Fujin stood stock still, arms crossed over her chest, smirking as the boy's cognitive powers worked.  Even through the haze of his mild dementia, Fujin presented an unmistakable appearance: silver hair, a blazing – almost red – eye, and a patch in place of the other eye.

"Fu- Fujin?" he stammered, "but you left with Seifer."  Then, remembering his training to maintain the offensive, "What're you doing here?"

"QUIET!" she snapped.  Quistis pressed the button to tighten the boy's chest restraints.  It pulled him back in his chair with sufficient force to knock the wind out of him.

Fujin held up a picture of the Headmaster for McMurdo's inspection.

"WHY?" she asked.

McMurdo set his jaw and said nothing.  Fujin watched him for a second.  After waiting, she shrugged.  She reached for the handlink at her side and pressed a few buttons.

"WRONG."

So saying, she pressed one final button, sending electricity arcing through the chair.  McMurdo screamed in agony, throwing his head back against the cold metal and twisting against his restraints.  

"WHY?"

"I'm... not... telling..." he replied through gritted teeth.

Fujin pressed the button again, administering another electric shock.  McMurdo, prepared this time, still screamed against the pain.

"WHY?" Fujin repeated, pressing the question even harder.

McMurdo made an effort to spit at Fujin.

Fujin sighed, the look in her eye informing McMurdo how tiresome she found his resistance.  She pressed the button to trigger another shock and he writhed in his chair, slumping over unconscious when the shock ended.

"QUISTIS?"  Fujin said aloud.

Quistis spoke to Fujin through the handlink, guiding the silver-haired woman through the next step of the procedure.  Fujin pressed another series of buttons on the handlink, and an arm swung up from the back of the chair, administering a hypodermic full of stimulants to McMurdo.  Slowly, he opened his eyes, glaring at Fujin.

"WHY?" she said again.

McMurdo's hands clenched into fists, and his eyes closed while he waited for the shock.  "Why don't you just kill me?" he asked.

"NAME?"  Fujin asked.

"What?" he answered.

A short sharp shock for that.  He yelped in surprise.

"NAME?" she repeated.

"McMurdo!"

"RANK?"

"SeeD Cadet."  He gasped deeply now, taking in huge gasps of air, relieved and confused to answer "safe" questions.

"WEAPON?"

"Firearms."

"GOOD.  FINISHED."  She pressed a button on the handlink on his wrist restraints snapped open.  He moved his arms a little, the muscles unused to doing anything except trying to break free.  He massaged his wrists and ran his hands through his hair, trying to get as much use from his freedom as possible.

Fujin reached into her back pocket and produced an envelope, handing it over to McMurdo.

"LETTER," she said.  He tore it open, recognizing the return address.

"Honey," the letter read, "how is everything at Garden?  You must be very busy lately.  It's been a long time since you've written or called.  Is everything okay?  Have you been hurt?  Please get in touch with us soon, because we're all very worried about you.  Love, Mom."

"I need," McMurdo said, through cracked lips, "to send a letter to my family.  They're worried about me.  I need... to write to them... please."

Fujin glanced up at the control booth, from which Quistis watched the proceedings.  She moved in close and blocked McMurdo from the booth's view with her body.

"DANGEROUS."

"Please!" he begged, clutching at her sleeve.  "I know you have no reason to help me, but I have to write to them.  I have to let them know I'm alive."

"FAST," she said, slipping him a pen.

He placed his mother's letter on the arm of the chair and wrote on the blank side.  He worked quickly, but in his weakened state, he found it hard to hold the pen.

"Here," he said, handing Fujin the completed result.  "You'll see that it gets delivered?"

"PROMISE," she answered, sliding the letter up her sleeve.  She then placed his wrists back in their restraints and locked him down, making sure he was comfortable before she walked away.

*          *

The elevator door slid open and Fujin stepped into the control room, holding McMurdo's letter home.  Quistis looked up from the video monitors and faced her colleague.

"Well done," she said.

"OPINION?" Fujin asked.

"The boy's responding well so far.  He's disoriented from the time he's been left alone.  You've confused him by setting up both reactions of both fear and trust.  You gave him an opportunity to avoid punishment by asking him simple questions.  And the forged letter trick is textbook.  I think that angle is going to take us a long way.  Speaking of which, did his letter give you anything?"  As Quistis spoke, she cleaned up her files and the area in which she'd worked.  She didn't like to spend any more time in the Dark than necessary.

"GARBAGE."  Fujin answered.

"Well, we'll break him sooner or later.  Let's get out of this place."

They rode the elevator down in silence, and stepped off at the sleeping quarters.  As Quistis considered the chair where the young man sat confined, doomed to another night of sensory deprivation and intravenous food, she got the suspicion, and not for the first time, that SeeD had started to wither at its roots.


	26. All About Soul

The door to the control room hissed open as Fujin entered.  Quistis removed her glasses as she looked up at the scowling silver-haired woman.  Fujin crossed the room and threw herself into a chair, breathing heavily.  Quistis waited several moments before speaking.

"I've just finished reading your latest report on McMurdo.  He's quite strong-willed, isn't he?"

Fujin's scowl deepened.  "FRUSTRATING."

Quistis glanced down through the window, looking at McMurdo, slumped down in his chair, happy in unconsciousness.  Quistis massaged the bridge of her nose as she weighed her options.  After careful consideration, she accessed the secure line on the control panel, dialing Squall's office.  He answered at once, appearing on the screen before her.

"Yes, Quistis?" as usual, his voice betrayed no emotion.  If he desperately wanted to hear some good news, he certainly didn't show it.

"We seem to have reached... an impasse with McMurdo," she replied, matching his lack of affect.  As head of Psychological Operations, she had a duty to provide her commanding officer with intelligent, well-reasoned information, and to do so without emotional bias whenever the situation demanded it.

"An impasse..." he repeated, nodding slowly.  "What do you recommend?"

"We have tried some of the standard tricks.  I have a more... extreme idea in mind," Quistis said, her stomach starting to churn as she spoke, "but I thought it prudent to get your authorization first."

In Squall's eyes, for a moment, Quistis saw a flicker of doubt.  She saw his eyes cast about the room, as if looking for someone to guide him.  The moment passed, and Squall focused his attention on Quistis.

"We need that confession.  Use whatever means necessary."

"Understood," she said.  Squall nodded and the monitor went dead, leaving Quistis to stare at the blank screen.  Quistis looked down at McMurdo again, wishing the boy would come to his senses and offer up a confession in the next few moments.

"QUISTIS?" Fujin asked.  "IDEA?"

Quistis sighed.  "When I was finishing my training in coercive questioning, I noticed that, aside from a few... tricks... we had no real standard system for interrogation."

"SYSTEM?"

"Right.  There was no method, no process to follow.  So, just out of curiosity, I thought I'd do some research into the appropriate methods, and try to find a routine we could use, one that would allow us to break ninety-nine subjects out of a hundred.  But...  I never thought we'd actually use it.  It was just an academic exercise.  I didn't think we'd ever see it in action," she repeated.

"NECESSITY," Fujin stated, glancing at McMurdo.

Quistis rubbed her temples, trying to push back the pounding in her skull.  She knew the agony her words would inflict on McMurdo, but she pressed on anyway.

"I'm only doing this because we need to know who convinced him to shoot the Headmaster," she said.  "Someone very persuasive wanted him to kill Cid, and whoever that is, McMurdo is still afraid of him.  We need answers, and this is the only way.  Under any other circumstances, this is too brutal, too barbaric.  I never meant to put these methods to use."

The words rang hollow in Quistis's ears.  She could hear her empty rationalization.

"Think of this as a long-term plan.  Use your best judgment on when to proceed and when to hold back, since you know him better than anyone else does.  With that in mind we've already accomplished the first step," Quistis said, her voice slipping so quickly and easily into its instructor mode that it almost frightened her, "which is to abduct the subject without warning, and refuse to answer their questions.  You then isolate them in a cell- or dungeon-like environment and remove their clothes.  Following that comes humiliation and degradation.  Everything about his condition, his weakness has achieved that end"

"The next step is where we have to vary the routine.  The next time you see McMurdo, it's pain without warning.  You ask him no questions, you give him no answers.  Just hurt him.  However you want, for however long you want.  It's entirely to your discretion.  Make it painful, and make it humiliating.  Emphasize your power, and his weakness.

"We've also set ourselves in place for the third step.  There's a reason this place is called 'The Dark,' and my research is it.  We've been stripping him of his day/night cycle, which is psychologically devastating.  Everyone's body assumes that they'll get so many hours of light, and so many hours of dark.  If you remove that balance, it's surprisingly disorienting.  We've left him in the dark for quite some time, so now, let's turn on the lights full blast.  He'll enjoy it for a time, but it won't last for long.

"The fourth step is the most unpleasant, but it should prove very rewarding.  From here on in, you control when he goes to the bathroom.  You must also be present when these activities are performed.  This helps erode his sense of privacy.

"Now, he will inevitably soil himself.  The pure shame of sitting in his own waste should be incredible, and he'll probably become quite motivated to obtain permission to clean it up.  That feeling is one he won't have had since early childhood, and it should make him feel quite vulnerable.

"Fifth, no more intravenous feeding.  You bring the food, you bring the water.  You also control the amount of food and water.  It ebbs and flows at your whim.  In this way, not only are you interrogating him, you are also his only lifeline: he is dependant on you.

"Sixth, punish him for no particular reason.  If he speaks, if he doesn't speak, whatever.  In the beginning, he'll try to figure out the reasoning behind the punishments, but be sure to keep them random.  In the end, he'll have to accept that he will be punished whenever you choose.

"Seventh, train him to ask permission for anything everything.  Every behavior.  This is self-explanatory.  The more he's accustomed to adhering to your will, the sooner he'll confess.

"Eighth, establish a routine of regular punishment.  This will let him know what his new life is going to be like if he doesn't tell you what you want to know.  Every day, same time.  No matter what, don't let him miss a punishment.  It's crucial that you never vary the routine.

"Finally, you are to become his only connection to the outside world.  Any news he gets goes through you.  Any word of his family, his friends, whatever.  It all goes through you."

Exhausted, Quistis rested her forehead on the palm of her hand.  She couldn't recall a time in her life when she'd felt this awful, this ashamed of herself.  She slowly opened her eyes, happening to glance at McMurdo's dossier, resting in front of her.  The boy's series of photos – taken at intervals: his entrance to Garden; his inauguration as a junior cadet; his graduation to cadet status; the final photo, of him imprisoned in the metal chair below – all seemed to stare back at her.

She couldn't take it.  "Damn it!" she swore, grabbing at the folder.  She clutched at the paper, nails sinking in at the header marked, "Do not spindle, fold, or mutilate," as she clenched the papers in her fist and threw them towards the trashcan.  They fell several inches short of the mark, causing her to swear again, louder this time, "Damn it!"

She suddenly remembered finishing her report on coercive questioning, and her excitement at presenting her instructors with her findings.  She remembered, too, that Cid had read the report himself, and found it so impressive, he took her out to lunch in Balamb.  At the time, it seemed like a reward for academic performance.  Now Quistis had a sneaking suspicion to the contrary.

"Damn it!" she swore a third time, pushing her chair away from the table and stalking over to the trashcan.  She picked up the scattered, crumpled papers as best she could with shaking hands and threw them away.  "Damn you, Cid!" she shouted, kicking the trashcan with all of her strength.  "It was just supposed to be a term paper, you bastard!"  She continued kicking the trashcan until she'd dented it beyond recognition, only stopping when it slid away from her.

Breathing heavily, Quistis turned and looked at Fujin, who sat in her chair, watching the pancake of metal at her feet settle into its place on the floor.  She looked up at Quistis with concern on her face.

"OKAY?" she asked.

Quistis focused and recovered from her outburst, taking several deep breaths and centering herself.

"Sorry," Quistis said, trying to force her heart rate back to normal.  She waited until she could trust her voice not to quaver and then spoke again.  "I'm not normally like this.  But things have been very hard lately.  We've had... some disturbing developments at a very high level in the organization, and it's taken a toll on all of us."

Fujin nodded in concern.  Her worry for Seifer had deepened of late, so Quistis's words came as no surprise.

"UNDERSTOOD."

Quistis, feeling almost steady on her feet again, took another deep breath.  "I don't feel much like continuing, Fujin.  Why don't we call it a night?"

Fujin nodded and started for the elevator.  As she walked past Quistis, she put a comforting hand on the blond woman's shoulder.  Quistis heard the whispering sound of the doors moving, and then she was alone.

*          *

Squall stretched out in his bed, eyes closed, willing his muscles to relax.  Under the current circumstances, he'd found it difficult to relax, and hadn't managed to make his way to the training center nearly as often as he would have liked.  Free time had turned into a myth among the high-ranking SeeDs, doubly so with Squall.

The sound of running water, the faucet in the bathroom, fell silent.  Squall listened to Rinoa's soft footsteps as she crossed over to his bed.  He didn't need to open his eyes to picture her making her way across the room.  She slid into bed beside him, placing her head, as she always did, directly over his heart, so she could listen to its rhythmic beating.  Squall allowed himself a contented smile, enjoying the nearness of her, as he ran his hand through her raven hair.  With his eyes closed, he felt weightless, the two of them floating aboard the _Ragnarok, _with nothing to come between them.

"Where are you?" he heard her ask.

"Sorry," he answered, glancing down to meet her dark eyes.

"You know, Squall, I've always wondered, why did you come to Garden?"

"Because I was put here."  He answered the question without having to think about it.

"That's not what I meant.  Why Garden, why SeeD?"

He hesitated for a second.  "It was the easiest choice.  Cid put me here, I stayed."

Rinoa looked up at him with an exaggerated frown.  "Don't lie to me, Squall Leonhart.  If that were the case, you didn't need to go through all the trouble of becoming a SeeD.  But you did.  You picked the most difficult weapon, got into a rivalry with Seifer, and clawed your way to the top.  That's not the path of least resistance.  What were you really after?"

"I... wanted to make sure I could take care of myself.  So that I wouldn't need to rely on anyone ever again."

"Because, when Ellone left the orphanage..."

"Right," he said.

Silence for a few moments, punctuated only by the soft piano music floating from the stereo.

"While I've got this window into your enigmatic mind, what would you do if you ever left Garden?" she inquired, shifting her weight a little, and propping herself up on one elbow.

"Why?" he shot back.

"Play along, Squall," she replied.  "What do you dream about?  If you didn't have to run Garden, what would you be doing?"

Squall thought on this for a moment.  He'd spent his whole life at Garden – a warrior by trade.  The notion of leaving Garden seemed so remote to him, that he only considered the notion in his most desperate moments – moments that had plagued him with increasing frequency.

"I'd like to travel," he said.

"But haven't you been everywhere?" Rinoa asked.  "I mean, hasn't SeeD taken you just about everywhere there is to go?"

"It's not the same.  I go somewhere, I fight something, I come back."  Squall leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, as if he could see through it.  "I'd like to get a collection of my father's travel writings and follow in his footsteps.  Go through his journeys.  You know, ride on a train where he rode, eat in the same restaurants, that sort of thing.  I'd like to do his whole journey, beginning to end."  Squall's voice picked up enthusiasm as he spoke.  

"That sounds nice," Rinoa said, putting her head back on Squall's chest.

"What about you?" he asked.  "What would you do if we ran away from Garden?"

"When I was young, back when my mother was alive," Rinoa said, the smile evident in her voice, "we had a summer home by the sea.  I loved it so much more than my father's mansion.  The mansion was such a museum – you weren't allowed to run around, you couldn't touch anything, there were always tutors and servants around to tell you what you could and couldn't do.  Even worse, generals came and went at all hours, so even if you did manage to get away, someone would catch you and lock you in your room.  It was so stuffy.

"But the summer home was nothing like that.  For those few months out of every year, I felt just like a normal kid.  So I guess that's what I'd want.  Just a house, by the sea, where I could have my friends come and visit me whenever they wanted to.  You know, to have a barbecue on the beach or something like that."

They talked and made love long into the night, and, as Rinoa slept beside him, Squall watched her.  Even with the rest of his life crashing down around him – his mentor betraying and manipulating him since childhood, an unknown hand guiding an assassin, torture going in the Garden's basement, somehow, all seemed well.

Squall slid out of bed and dressed, moving into the hallway, back into the other half of his world, the nightmare half, where nothing made sense, where he could trust only a few individuals.  The Garden faculty shuffled about the concourse, faces hidden in robes, hats, and shadows.  Although Squall made a habit of ignoring them, now he scrutinized each one, trying to find the traitor amongst their number – if indeed, the traitor served on the faculty.

Squall stepped onto the elevator, inserted his pass, and pressed in his access code, his stomach lurching briefly as it hurtled toward the lowest levels of the Garden.

*          *

Quistis woke to the sound of footsteps in the control room.  The footfalls hit the ground too far apart to belong to Fujin.  Someone else, then, had entered the Dark.  Someone come for McMurdo.  Quistis ignored the stinging from where her sleeping face had pressed against the control panel and in one quick motion slammed the button to turn the lights off, kicked her chair out from under her, and hit the floor.

The footsteps stopped.

"It's Squall," came the calm, measured voice.

"Oh."  Her voice came out pinched, almost a squeak, and she felt as stupid as she looked.

She stood up, turning the lights back on as she did so.  "Hi," she said.

Squall looked around the room, taking in every detail, eyes lingering across the control panel, as if he could memorize its functioning in one pass.  He studied the smoky glass that kept them from seeing the floor where McMurdo sat, restrained.  In one long sweep of the room, he seemed to absorb all he could find before bringing his eyes to rest on Quistis again.

"So," he said, "this is the Dark.  I've never been inside before."

"This is it," she replied.  "And, sorry about before.  Today has been a little stressful for me, so when you woke me up..."

"You have keyboard face," Squall interjected.

"Sorry?"

"Keyboard face," he repeated.  "You slept with your face on the keyboard.  Zell used to do it all the time in class, and it left marks on his face.  He used to wonder how the faculty members knew he was sleeping, since he sat all the way in the back."

"I do remember that," she smiled.  Then, remembering the hour and place of their conversation, "But I doubt you came all the way down here to catch up on old times.  What can I do for you?"

Squall seated himself at one of the chairs at the table.  Quistis sat opposite him.

"I came down here for a briefing," he said, indicating the files spread out on the table.  I want to know what you do here.  You said you're going to try something extreme.  I want to know what didn't work, and I want to know what you think will.  I want every file you have down here."

Quistis removed her glasses from her pocket and cleaned them with care before setting them in place.  "I'm afraid I can't do that, Squall."

Squall blinked at her response.  "What?"

"Look," she replied, gathering her files and stacking them, "We all cope with the things we do.  Sometimes it's harder than others – like today, but I'm trained to live with it.  I think it's better if you don't know what steps we're taking to break McMurdo.  It'll let you stay detached from the situation.  And, if, for whatever reason, you ever need to deny what was going on down here, it leaves your hands clean."

"I don't want to stay detached," he replied.  "I want to know what's going on.  I have to see the bodies."

"The bodies?"

"Rinoa's theory of good generals and bad generals.  A good general sees the bodies.  Walks the battlefield with his soldiers, and takes the time to mourn the dead.  A bad general is one that thinks in terms of numbers, and causalities, without ever caring how many die.  I've decided I can't be like that."

"For Rinoa's sake?"

"For my sake.  For all of ours.  So I have to know what I'm putting you through down here."

Quistis looked at Squall for a long moment and slid the files over to him.  He read them drinking in the full scope of the interrogation.  Until now, he'd only seen progress reports, details couched in careful administrative terms.  This changed the scope of his understanding.

"I see," he said, finally looking up, as he closed the last folder.

"And I bet you're wishing you'd never come down here, aren't you?" she asked.

"As soon as you and Fujin are finished interrogating McMurdo and Llyriance, as soon as we know who's behind the shooting, we're shutting this place down."

"But Cid..." she objected.

"Cid's finished," Squall replied, eyes flashing.  "He's played us from the beginning, and look at what it's done to us.  As soon as he recovers, I'm officially relieving him of all executive authority. "

"You know, it's funny," Quistis said, not even close to laughing, "I mean, now that we know everything about Cid, it makes me question every mission we've ever run."

"I know," Squall nodded.

"After all the... stories they raise you with, you just assume, that when you're a SeeD, how can you fail to do the right thing?  It's automatic.  You're always the good guy.  They tell you that you're never on the "bad" side of a battle, but..."

"That's the past," Squall stated, as he rose from his chair.  "Things are different now.  I promise."  He looked Quistis in the eyes for a long moment, as if to affirm his vow, then left.

She switched the lights off in the control room, gathered her files, and headed for her office adjoining the control room in Dark 2, knowing that when she woke up, she'd have to begin interrogating Llyriance.  Owing to his high rank, she couldn't afford to damage him too much, so she'd have to improvise new methods as she went along.  She stretched out in bed and prayed for a dreamless sleep.


	27. Degree Absolute

Quistis opened her eyes, preparing her mind for the first day of interrogating Llyriance.  She'd studied his dossier in obsessive detail, and now the time had come to put that knowledge to use.

She dressed with precision, pulling on a fresh uniform, and taking extra care with her appearance, in order to emphasize her liberty over Llyriance's extended captivity.  When she'd finished, she rode the elevator down to the floor of the Dark and flooded the room with light.

Llyriance had the same gaunt and haggard appearance that plagued McMurdo, but seemed in much better spirits.  The fact of his imprisonment did not seem to trouble him at all – rather, he didn't seem aware of the fact.  After his eyes adjusted to the light, he sized up Quistis.

"Ah, good morning, my dear," he said.  "So what's it to be?  Electroshock torture?  A steady course of beatings?  Or am I lucky, and you'll, shall we say, 'put the screws' to me?"

She took slow, careful steps, moving to a calculated distance, just close enough to maximize her superiority over the captive Galbadian.  A small lectern rose out of the floor in front of her, and she set Llyriance's file down where she could access it.

 With deliberate intent, she reached for the handlink clipped to her belt.  A single button press and the interrogation chair's impressive array of needles, blades, saws, torches, and yet darker devices sprang into view.   Still, Llyriance kept his smiling gaze on Quistis.

Raising an eyebrow, she pressed a quick sequence of buttons.  The chair's restraints clamped down hard on Llyriance's arm, preventing it from wriggling.  A bladed attachment drew a long, slow line, extending the entire length from his wrist to his elbow.  The blade moved with precision to rival even the greatest human surgeon, and as it did, Llyriance's smile just widened.  Rich, thick blood welled up as the blade withdrew, the arm automatically dropping into a vat of sterilizing liquid before it locked back into its initial position.  Galbadia's Director of National Defense looked ecstatic.

Quistis finally spoke, emotion absent, every inch the ice princess.  "I have just split open your anterior ulnar vein.  That's a sample of what we're capable of here."

"By all means," Llyriance answered, eyes gazing with desire at his bleeding arm.

*          *

Fujin waited as the elevator whisked her to the interrogation floor.  She'd had her fill of waiting for McMurdo's mind to snap.  Quistis had left Fujin with carte blanche, and the silver-haired woman intended to bring the interrogation to a swift resolution.  McMurdo needed to see just how far Fujin would go to obtain a confession.

She learned the lesson from Quistis – they all had, in their Psychology of Battle class.  She'd taught them about the will to power, how you had to prove to your enemy that you'd do anything to win.  She'd said that you had to use every weapon at your disposal, or else you'd already lost.

She stepped off the elevator and walked at a brisk pace to the chair.  After entering a command to swivel it to face the command deck, she grabbed McMurdo by the hair.

"EMPTY," she said, pointing to the row of darkened windows.  Then, turning back to McMurdo, "ALONE."

"What... what's going on?" he asked, disorientation from his continuous interrogation preventing him from following the implications.

"TALK."  Fujin commanded.

"I can't," he whimpered.  "I just can't."

One of Fujin's eyebrows traveled upward at an agonizing crawl.

"PITY."

Fujin smiled, and it terrified the boy.

*          *

He walked into the empty infirmary, adapting to the low light, in the Headmaster's private room.  Crossing over to Cid Kramer's bed, he pulled up a chair and made himself comfortable without waiting for an invitation.  He set a folder on an adjacent table as Cid shifted to look at the visitor, moving slowly to avoid putting extra strain on his wounds.

"Hello, Headmaster Kramer," said the visitor.  "It's been quite a while since we last spoke, and I thought it important to touch base."

Cid nodded, trying to conserve his energy for necessary conversation.

"Do you remember the chain of events that led you here, Cid?  Those events immediately prior to the shooting?"

Cid thought for a long moment, a process that seemed to pain him.  He seemed medicated beyond all reason and content to stay that way.

"Well," said the guest, rising from his chair and moving about the room, "allow me to remind you.  Like everyone else, you had a part to play in my plans.  You have fulfilled that objective.  This makes you expendable."

Cid's eyes widened with panic and he struggled to find the call button, his only hope at salvation.  Sound couldn't escape from his isolated room – he'd insisted on one of the quiet rooms in the infirmary, a petty decision that could now spell his demise.  Nevertheless, he screamed for help.

"I think not," said his assassin, waving one hand in a casual gesture.  Cid felt the air around him thicken, felt himself caught in an isolated pocket where time had no meaning.  The clock on his nightstand broke down with him, its internal machinery winding down to a complete stop.

*          *

Quistis pressed the button to activate the next phase of her sequence.  The next device swung around, a small torch that slowly ran the length of Llyriance's cut, cauterizing it.  As the fire touched his skin, Llyriance closed his eyes, face turning from ecstasy from rapture.  The torch moved up his arm like a shiver of joy, and his tongue came out, caressing his too-white teeth in pleasure.

When he opened his eyes, Quistis still watched him, her face a mask.  "More, my love?" he whispered.

"Now we understand each other," she said.  "You know we're quite well equipped for forcible interrogation.  We," here she indicated the dossier, "however, have extensive documentation on your singular... preferences."

"So, I assume, then," he said, adopting a more businesslike attitude, "that I shouldn't be expecting more of the same?  Nor seeing you well-known skill with a whip?"

"No," she answered.  "There won't be more of the same.  We don't want to damage the tissue."

"So," he countered, "why don't you tell me what it is you want."

"A sensible attitude."

"It would help to know what you want," he conceded.

"It's quite simple," she said.  "We want to know what, if anything, your government had to do with the attempt on Headmaster Kramer's life."

Gleeful shock registered on Llyriance's face.  "Nothing, to the best of my knowledge.  This is the first I've heard of it."

"How certain are you?"

"No such action could take place without my foreknowledge.  As Director of National Defense, any covert actions must have my express approval and signature.  Additionally, the Galbadian Republic requires the signatures of three directors before rendering a valid death warrant.  This includes assassinations.  I am one of those directors"

As he spoke, Quistis kept an eye on the stress monitors.  None of them wavered – Llyriance either spoke the truth, or thought he did.  Or, perhaps, he knew how to subvert their lie detectors.  She watched him, too, his blink rate, the flare of his nostrils, the dilation of his pupils, and none of them betrayed a lie.

"And the other two?" Quistis asked.

"That, I'm afraid, is confidential.  Here, we are at odds."

*          *

Fujin took a few steps away from him and stretched, long and languorous.  She reached slowly down her leg and, reached for one ankle.  Through the haze of McMurdo's confusion, it seemed almost sensuous to him.  She stood up with her back to him, arms dropping at her sides.  By the time he noticed the cylinder in her hand, he didn't have a chance to react.

She made a dexterous flick with her wrist, and her tactical baton, normally reserved as a holdout weapon, extended to its full length.  She whirled around and smashed it into McMurdo's right shin, breaking the leg.  He howled in pain.

"TALK."

He continued screaming as if she'd never spoken.  Without hesitation, she moved again, bringing the baton up at an angle and breaking the boy's left knee.

"Don't do this!" he screamed.

She feinted, twice, moving like a swordsman, striking towards each of the cadet's arms without touching them.

"LEFT?  RIGHT?  TALK."

*          *

"Here's what I want from you, Llyriance: the names of every person in the new Galbadian government and the position they hold.  I want to know their job and who works in their offices.  I want the names of their secretaries, their assistants, their interns.  I want to know who their wives are and who their kids are.  Their sisters and their sister's friends.  I want the names of every person in the Galbadian government, and when you're done with that, you can give me the name of every person these people might have come into contact with.  I want to know where they live and what they live on.  How much do they make and how much do they spend?  Where do they eat and where do they shop?  What schedule do they keep?  We're going to go over this for every person you can think of until you have the most extensive web conceivable – every person who's had even the slightest contact with your new government."

As Quistis spoke, the brilliance in her vibrant blue eyes emptied until no life shone within them.  Her voice remained neutral and she paused for a moment to let Llyriance absorb her words.

"You arrogant little bitch," he sneered after a long moment.  "Do you really think you're smarter than I am?  I went to the finest schools in Galbadia and graduated top in my class.  And what are you?  Some little slut that Cid Kramer picked up and squeezed into a fancy uniform.  He only keeps you around because that pathetic old cretin hopes he'll get a chance to screw you.  That uniform doesn't change a thing, though.  You SeeDs are gutter-slime, and everyone knows it."

Inside, Quistis soared, finding the rhythm of the interrogation and letting it wash over her.  She exulted in the challenge, thrilled at the possibilities.  The reed-like sound of his voice poured through her like music, stripping his insults of all power.   Her brain against his, pitched in single combat.  She'd seen the look flowing over Seifer and Squall's face when they sparred – the look of abandon, of joining with their weapon, of doing the one thing they loved to the exclusion of all others.  She knew that sensation, because it filled her now.

Quistis leaned in, again, her voice low.  "You have what we want, Llyriance: information.  Information.  And we will get it.  By hook or by crook, we will."

*          *

"Now, as I was about to say before you had your little episode, you have fulfilled your purpose nicely, and for that, I thank you.  Sadly, you won't be around to see me profit from your actions, but I assure you that your death will not be in vain."

Cid's eyes, the only part of him not frozen by the powerful magic, seemed to project a scream.

"You well know that you arrived in the infirmary by way of a botched attempt on your life.  We are both aware who employed the shooter McMurdo, correct?  Blink once for yes, twice for no."

Cid closed his eyes in resignation.

"Good.  No need to discuss that part.  Now, what you may not know is...  ah, yes?"

As the unwelcome guest spoke, Cid's eyes struggled up to the security camera aimed directly at the bed.  At some point, the camera picked up the intruder's face, Cid hoped.

"Wishful thinking, I'm afraid.  One of your demands, in addition to a quiet room, was that you not be monitored.  See?"

He walked to the camera, reached up, and pulled down the severed power cord.

"Not only that, Headmaster, but you insisted on one other precaution," he said, flipping on a light.  "Take a closer look at the lens of the camera."

Cid blinked back the light for a moment and then noted with dismay that someone had spray painted the lens of the camera with a bright blue paint.  He closed his eyes, as the light went out, knowing that he'd cut himself off from the world, and, in doing so, committed suicide.

*          *

"We're going to display a set of images on the screen in front of you," Quistis said, watching Llyriance.  "Please watch them."

She activated the projector and the first image flared to life: a picture of an angry woman, glowering at the camera.  The image flashed across Llyriance's field of vision and his face betrayed no affect.  Quistis could have consulted his monitors, but she knew that his heart rate and blood pressure had remained perfectly steady.

The second image: a smiling baby, wrapped in soft blankets.  Llyriance yawned.  These images meant nothing, the served to calibrate the machine, to give the interrogator a moment to observe the subject in actual conditions prior to the actual battery.

She flipped a switch and the assault commenced, a freeform trip through Llyriance's psyche, a wandering journey of all the people, places and things that had ever crossed his path.  The general with whom he organized the coup that swept away the Delings, the academy where he attended school.  His butler, followed simply by the figure 39,000,000.  First a color, then the quick flash of a face.  Llyriance sat transfixed through it all, through his disconnected biography, but he never once betrayed an interest.

Suddenly, Quistis saw it.  A tiny gesture, almost imperceptible, a miniscule tic at the corner of his mouth.  He'd seen something that made him take notice.  She punched a few buttons into the handlink, and a portion of the sequence started to repeat itself.

*          *

"So, this brings us again to the topic of your badly bungled assassination.  You probably recall a growing dissension within the ranks of SeeD, one that escalated as the date of the shooting approached.  Suddenly missions started going sour, people started defying orders, paperwork vanished.  Does all this ring a bell?"

Cid's eyelids started to flutter, driven by a pounding in his head.

"Focus, please.  Was that one blink or two?"

Cid blinked once, yes, he remembered the sudden decay of SeeD.

"Very good.  For a man in your circumstances, you're doing remarkably well, Cid.  You see, what really happened was that you lost control.  You became irrational, delusional, paranoid.  The only thing that changed about SeeD was you.  You broke down, and in your inability to see that, you projected it upon the system.  This, however, was not your fault, and I absolve you from any guilt."

The visitor reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced Cid's cigarette holder, holding it up clearly, within Cid's field of vision.

"Yes.  In the end, it was your vice that proved to be your undoing.  You're intimately familiar with the ingredients, aren't you?"

A slow blink.

"Well, once I convinced your tobacconist in Dollet to make an alteration to the recipe – an easy feat, given the man's overwhelming greed – you were already lost."

*          *

Daises.  He'd reacted to a picture of daises.  Llyriance found the daisies significant, and now Quistis had to ferret out their significance.  He didn't know, of course, that he'd reacted, but she'd seen his implacable demeanor suffer from the same nervous tic every time the picture came around.  She didn't need any more proof than that.

She sat opposite the enormous metal chair restraining Llyriance, head tilted back, eyes closed.

"Shall we listen to some music?" she asked.

"Mightn't that be considered fraternizing with the enemy?" he replied, one eyebrow raised.  

"Until you decide to be more forthcoming with your knowledge, you and I are, shall we say, in for the duration.  I'm not allowed to leave the Dark until I have completed my interrogation.  So we can either make our mutual captivity pleasant, or we can suffer in silence.  I vote for music."

"In that case," he said, sounding as if her words had changed her mind, "you're the one with the..." he gestured with one shackled hand, "magic wand.  Music it is."

She turned on the room's sound system, and the delicate sounds of a piano filtered through, slow and sad.

"Julia Heartilly," Llyriance nodded deeply, "Nocturne Two, I believe."

"My favorite," Quistis answered.

"Her nocturnes are lovely, but I hold a special place in my heart for Piano Sonata Eight.  I was there the night it premiered."

Quistis smiled, imagining the event.  She'd always had a fondness for the music of Julia Heartilly, even before knowing Rinoa.  Julia seemed to make the piano sing in a way no other artist had ever done.  Quistis closed her eyes and leaned her head back again, half- losing herself in the music, half-focusing on Llyriance.

"I have to apologize for what I said earlier," Llyriance said.  "It was... unkind of me to speak to a lady in that fashion."

Quistis felt everything slide into place.  She understood the daisies, understood Llyriance's schizoid reactions, understood how to crack him.  Without opening her eyes, she reached for the handlink.

The metal restraints clamped down on Llyriance, forcing his arm in place again.

"What?  What's going on?"  She could hear the shock in his voice, and she drank of it.

The surgical unit slid down from above, three hypodermic needles extended towards Llyriance's arm.  As they slid into his vein, he felt himself losing consciousness.  He saw Quistis, head still tilted back, smiling to herself, one hand gently conducting the nocturne.

*          *

The man opened up a small parcel of paper containing a fine, dark green powder.  He brought it close to Cid.

"Powdered malboro root.   Are you familiar with its use, Headmaster?"

Two blinks.

"Interesting," here the visitor smiled.  "Escalause Almasy first discovered its virtue as a slow-acting poison.  Oddly enough, the roots are very addictive, helping to eliminate suspicion in the victim.  In your case, it just made you crave the cigarettes with increasing frequency.  This intensified the standard effects: hallucinations, paranoia, impaired judgment – in short, all the behaviors you've been exhibiting.  It also attacks the immune system, slowly breaking it down, accounting for your long stay in the infirmary.  Now do you begin to see?"

Cid's eyes closed, as if he would never open them again.  The intruder leaned forward to whisper to the headmaster.

"And now you're thinking to yourself, 'why me?  Why is all this happening?  Where did I go wrong?'  I'll tell you, Cid.  You picked the wrong side.  You were stupid enough to side with a Sorceress from the future.  You should have focused your attention on the present – you could have been unstoppable."  He grabbed Cid's head in a vice-like grip, voice dropping for the first time into genuine contempt.  "Now look at me closely and recognize the truth of what I'm saying.  You're disgusting.  You took six innocent children and manipulated them in the hopes of serving Ultimecia.  On top of that, you used your wife's orphanage as a recruiting ground for your mercenary organization – lining your pockets with the blood money you earned from the death of children.  You are certainly the most contemptible creature that has ever crawled this planet.  Do you agree?"

The grip tightened.  Cid blinked, tears of pain starting to form in his eyes.

"Good."  The black glove released, pushing Cid back into place.  

*          *

"Kel?  Kel?"  came Quistis's voice as Llyriance started to regain consciousness.  "Wake up sweetie."

Kel Llyriance, five year-old, woke up to find himself once more in his mother's garden, back in the house where he grew up, his kind but unpredictably cold mother standing over him.

Kel Llyriance, Galbadia's Director of National Defense failed to appreciate the fact that a potent combination of hallucinogens and thiopental sodium – the so called "truth serum" -- now coursed its way through his body, turning the Dark into a memory of his childhood home.  Quistis merely projected pictures of flowers on all sides, and added a few post-hypnotic suggestions as he woke, and his own mind added the remaining details.

"Where am I, Mom?"

"Really, Kel," she snapped.  "What kind of dumb question is that?  Today's the day you were going to help me in the garden, remember?"

"Yeah.  Sure, Mom."

Quistis placed her hands on her hips.  "But only good boys can come into the garden.  Have you been a good boy?"

"Yes.  Yes."

"All right, then."  Quistis flashed him a dazzling smile, and led him by the hand around the room.  They sat on the floor for a while, pretending to plant flowers.  For fifteen minutes they pretended to plant, and Quistis continued her routine, warm and loving one moment, harsh the next.  When she felt secure, she made her move, engineering a collision with Llyriance.

"Look what you did, Kel!  You ruined all the seeds!  Now what good is the garden?"

"But, mom," he protested.

"Did your friends tell you to destroy my seeds?" she asked, pulling herself up to her full height.

"No!"

"Do you want me to get angry with you?  Which of your friends wants to destroy my seeds?"

Llyriance started to sputter, and Quistis knew she'd earned her list of names.  The only difficulty now lay in slowing down his speech so she could understand it.

*          *

"You're holding up well, Cid.  We're almost done here.  I have one last little item to show you.  This."  

With a flourish, like magic, the black glove produced an eyedropper, containing a green fluid.  In the dim light, the fluid glowed – it seemed, somehow, too green, a green not occurring in nature, something possessed of its own internal light.  It swirled from within, darker shades rippling and moving within it, nauseous tides waiting to trap the unwary viewer.

"Malboro venom.  This is it.  The most lethal, painful, deadly, poison you can find anywhere in the world."  Suddenly, the conversational demeanor returned, making things even more chilling, "Those disgusting creatures are quite useful.  Like you, in fact.  I had to pull some strings to obtain this.  Would you believe there's actually a malboro ranch?  They milk the things for venom to make antidotes for various poisons.  And, if you know how, you can always find someone with a price.  Someone, for example, who's willing to risk his or her job and send you pure venom.

"Well, Headmaster, I must say that while I've enjoyed your conversation tonight, but I think it's time we wrap things up.  You know Squall's on your trail, right?"

Cid blinked.

"And you know that he intends to bring you to justice and see you go through some sort of legal proceeding?  You might go to jail and lose all the money you made from SeeD?"

Blink.

"More than that, you know that Squall's the only reason you aren't dead already?  The rest of his hounds have been baying for your blood.  You realize that, too?"

Blink.

The guest leaned in again, once more whispering.

"Then there's one last thing you should know.  Squall?  Seifer?  The First Team?  They're the good guys.  I'm not."

One black glove lashed out and pulled Cid's eyelid open, while the other administered the drops.

The man sat back in his chair and waited for the magic to run its course, so the poison could act on Cid.  Within a minute, Cid's body started convulsing.  Muscle contractions followed, strong enough that the bones cracked, the sound shattering the tranquil hospital room.  Soon enough, Cid's organs had liquefied, and the Headmaster moved no more.

Turning to look at Cid's remains, the man stood up and brushed some lint off his jacket as he stepped for the door.  He looked at the mass on the bed, and the parts running off onto the floor, before offering a polite smile, a nod of farewell.

"Be seeing you."

*          *

Quistis had not left the Dark complex since she entered with Fujin to start McMurdo's interrogation.  Now, holding a data disc copy of the names Llyriance gave her, she stepped outside, relieved to hear the heavy metal door slam shut.  She flipped open her phone and dialed Squall's number.

"Squall," she said, feeling her spirits lighten at the prospect of leaving the place, even if only to deliver the disc, "I'm done with Llyriance.  Can I drop the disc off?"

"Yeah," he replied.  A long pause and then, "Good work, Quistis."

"Thanks.  I'll be right there."

She stepped into the elevator with no small amount of joy and watched the quality of light change.  Soon she saw daylight as Balamb Garden opened up beneath her.  It felt like coming home.

*          *

Squall sat behind his desk, staring with sorrow at a mountain of paperwork.  Quistis observed him for a moment.  He looked at the hefty pile, pulled off the top sheet of paper and read it over.  He then replaced it on the stack and sighed.  He picked up the entire heap, transferred it to the waste paper basket, and nodded, satisfied with his choice.

Quistis entered, laughing.  "So this is what you've been doing in my absence," she said, holding the disc to the light.  She set it gingerly on his desk.  "My latest trophy."

"Anything good?" he said, picking up the disc.

"You won't be disappointed," she said, smiling.

Suddenly, the door flew wide open, and General Mallis came in, with Dr. Kadowaki close behind.

"Cid's dead." Mallis proclaimed.

Squall's eyes went to the doctor.  "It had to be poison.  I'd guess malboro poison, but I don't know who could get a hold of it or how," she said.

Mallis's eye lit on the disc, then on Quistis.  "Is that the info from Llyriance?  Galbadian shadow government and all that?  Wives and children?"

Quistis and Squall nodded in unison.

"Print me out a hard copy and meet me down in the Dark."

"What are you going to do?" Squall asked.

"I'm going to show those Galbadians that we're not to be trifled with," Mallis snarled.

"Llyriance said they had nothing to do with the shooting."

"Of course he did," Mallis shot back.  "Just get me the printout and meet me down there."

*          *

Quistis clutched the papers tightly in her right hand.  Squall leaned against the wall as they waited for Mallis, who had entered Llyriance's cell moments before.

The door slid open, and Mallis stepped out, a cold storage box in hand.

"Here," he said, handing the box to Squall.  "Send this to Galbadia, along with the list of names."

"Will they know what to do with it?" Quistis asked.

Mallis gestured towards the box.  Squall opened it to reveal Llyriance's severed hand.  "The Director of National Defense's hand, accompanied with a list of names of every member of their government, their wives, their children, their grandparents, their third cousins...  They'll get the point," Mallis said, "that we can get to them anytime, anywhere.  Then they'll abandon their silly little war."  Satisfied, he stalked away.

After Mallis had left, Quistis and Squall stood standing, holding the box and list of names.  The door to Dark 1 slid open, and Fujin walked out, shaky, her pale face gone even whiter.

"Fujin, what's the matter?" Quistis asked.

"McMurdo just started talking," she said, speaking in a full sentence, meaning that whatever he'd said had shocked her out of her normally fragmented speech pattern.  "All of a sudden, he said he could tell me whatever I wanted to know.  He apologized for holding out for so long, but said he couldn't tell me any sooner."

"Well?" Squall pressed, "Who hired him to shoot Cid?"

"That's the thing," she said, turning to face Squall.  "Cid hired him."

"What?" Quistis and Squall asked together.

Fujin pointed to Squall.  "Cid would have demanded an independent investigation, to determine if you and the First Team were involved."

"So I couldn't interrogate," Quistis said.

"McMurdo would then confess to his interrogator that Squall ordered the hit."

Squall tensed.  He turned away from them, facing the wall.  For a long moment, Quistis thought he intended to put his fist through the hard metal.  He relaxed, and Quistis had to strain to hear his words.

"Bastard."

He turned back to the women.

"Someone's still out there.  Whoever killed Cid isn't done yet."

"This could be another of Cid's plans, to implicate you in his death.  At the very least, it could be suicide to avoid trial," Quistis asked.

"No," he replied.  "This isn't over."

"How do you know?" she pressed.

He shook his head.  "I just know."


	28. Finale

In the wake of the Headmaster's death, a small degree of normality returned to Balamb Garden, despite the heightened security and continued threat of an assassin.  Cid received a small, private burial without fanfare.  Edea, consumed – devastated – by grief, never noticed that "her children" never shed a single tear.

Aside from that, only a short announcement over the intercom marked his passing.  

"As you can know, class," Quistis said, enjoying the warm breeze in through the Quad, "I have a special demonstration for you today, and, for all our visitors."  She glanced around.  The Quad stood filled to capacity.  Quistis's special demonstration caused a considerable stir throughout the Garden.  Almost every SeeD stood present, as well as all the cadets and junior cadets the Quad could contain.  The youngest sat in the front, unable to contain their anticipation.  "I don't think I need to do much by way of introduction.  So I'll just remind everyone to stay well away from the arena, for the sake of everyone's safety."  She turned and started walking back to her seat.  Then, "Oh, and, gentlemen, please, I'll remind you of the rules and ask you to try a little harder this time:  no injuring your opponent."

The older SeeDs in the crowd chuckled appreciatively at Quistis's little jest.

The crowd around the arena seemed to melt away as Seifer strode forward, Hyperion's case in his hand.  He set the case on the sideline on opened it up, his gunblade gleaming in the afternoon sun.  Squall emerged and produced his blade as well.

Seifer stretched for a short time before extending his arm, gunblade out, pointing at Squall.  "No distractions this time, Squall," he grinned.  "Just you and me, winner take all."

Squall didn't react, gripping his gunblade in both hands, standing with his feet a shoulder's width apart.  He watched Seifer, waiting for his adversary to make the first move.

Without warning, Seifer acted, lunging forward and swinging at Squall's stomach.  Reacting instantly, Squall deflected the blow and swept his gunblade upward, aiming at the inside of Seifer's arm.  Seifer whirled away, Hyperion charting a course towards Squall's throat.  Squall blocked this and, for a moment, the two wrestled, their blades pushing at each other.  Eventually, Squall yielded, dropping in low, his shoulder ramming into Seifer's stomach.

The crowd gasped as Hyperion fell clattering to the ground out of Seifer's hand, but Seifer took the momentum from the tackle and pushed his way over Squall's shoulder, landing on the ground with a quick somersault that carried him to his gunblade.  He picked it up and whirled on Squall, still kneeling.

"I... taught you... that move," he panted, out of breath from the tackle.

Squall said nothing, squaring his shoulders for the next assault.  Seifer chuckled to himself and ran at Squall, blade low to the ground.  Squall stood unflinching, knowing that Seifer would duck in low and cut across Squall's defenses.  They'd used the move many times in the past – the scar on Seifer's face stood as testimony to that fact.

Seifer, however, brought his gunblade up point first, as a lance, with the intent of skewering Squall.  Caught off guard, Squall barely had time to swat it aside, allowing Seifer to return a rapid combination of blows that drove Squall backward.

"I've learned too," Seifer yelled over the clang of metal.

The next volley flew by at dizzying speed, with neither fighter gaining a substantial advantage over the other.  Then, an incredible roaring sound tore through the sky overhead.  Everyone in the Quad looked upwards to see a fleet of ships pass over Garden in a V-formation.  They passed by once at an incredible speed, and started to turn around, coming back for a second pass.

"This can't be good," Seifer said, the exhibition match forgotten.

"Nida," Squall said, already speaking into his phone, "meet me at the observation deck."  He snapped his phone shut and whirled on Quistis.  "Get everyone back to class."

"Right."

"Seifer," Squall leaned in, keeping his voice low, "get to the security station.  Just in case."

*          *

Squall and Xu burst through the door of the observation deck to find Nida waiting for them.  The unknown ships now hovered above Balamb Garden, unmoving.

Nida watched the ships through his binoculars as Squall approached.  "Tell me you know what those things are," Squall said.

"Take a look," Nida replied, handing over the binoculars.  The long ships had two sets of wings, and each carried countless cylinders that looked like nothing so much as torpedoes.

"Okay, but what are they?"

"Those are Esthar military transport ships.  Infantry dropships to be precise.  They're used to insert soldiers in invasion situations."

"What?" Squall spat back.  "Esthar?"

"Yeah.  But here's the thing.  Those ships have been out of circulation since Adel's reign.  They're antiques.  Man, what I wouldn't give to fly one of those things..."

"Focus!" Squall and Xu snapped in unison.

"There's not much more to tell," Nida said, still looking at the mass of ships over Garden.  "Those were the mainstay of Adel's invasion force.  A fleet of dropships would fly in over a location and hover there, creating panic.  As chaos ensued, those cylinders under the wings fire to ground and release the soldiers inside, who destroy everything they find.  Death from above, administered at Adel's whim.  They called it The Storm."

Squall looked through the binoculars again.  By Nida's reckoning, someone should have converted the ships into scrap metal two decades ago, but Squall could find no signs of use.  Whoever owned those ships kept them in mint condition.

A small motion to the side caught his attention.  Refocusing his binoculars on the troop transports, Squall noticed a series of metal catches around them retracting.  He thought he could hear the metallic sound the bolts made over the whine of the ship's engines.  Xu had seen it too.

"Not good," she said, lowering her binoculars.

As one, the front line of ships dropped its torpedoes into a firing position.

"Xu," Squall said, already on his way out the door, "battle stations."

As she pressed the buttons into her handlink, the torpedoes rocketed into the ground at the base of Balamb Garden, shaking its foundations.  The torpedoes split open to allow their human cargo to escape.  The soldiers inside wore vintage armor, culled from Adel's era, painted midnight blue.

With perfect precision, they extended mechanical grappling hooks and fired them at Garden's walls, sliding upwards as fast as the machines would take them.  Squall took Xu's handlink.

"They're coming over the walls," he said.  "Reinforce the Quad and the front gate."  He switched off the intercom and returned the handlink.  "Let's get to the offices."

*          *

Squall entered his office and donned a small earpiece, enabling him to speak with the rest of his team as the situation demanded.  After pressing a button within his desk, a portion of the wall slid away, and several consoles emerged, providing Squall with his personal command center.

"We'll use this as our base of operations," he said, taking a seat.  Xu sat down next to him and immediately started pulling up reports from the various screens.  "Give me the status report so far."

"Seifer's running the security station, trying to contain the breaches wherever possible.  So far, the invaders are trying the obvious routes, but he has teams providing reinforcements in the wings.

"Selphie and Raijin are supervising the junior cadets.  They've secured themselves in the library for now, and are awaiting further orders.

"Irvine and Zell are at the front gate.  They've managed to keep things there under control, but barely, and Quistis and Fujin are supervising the Quad.  That's everyone."

"What about Rinoa?" Squall asked.

"She went to the library with Selphie.  She'll be as safe there as anywhere else."

"Okay," he nodded, trying to plan his next move.

"Squall!" came a burst over his earpiece, the sound of Seifer making a report.  "We've got a serious breach here."

"I see it," Squall said, studying the flaring red light on the monitor before him.  The intruders had burst through the secret area and started making their way through the training center.  "Is anyone inside?"

"Only our teams," Seifer replied.

"Withdraw at once.  Seal the safety doors in the training center.  Lock them in.  Drop the security fences.  Cut all power to that wing of the building.  The T-Rexaurs should do the rest."

Seifer dropped offline as Squall turned his attention to the next crisis.

"Dr. Kadowaki," he said, putting in a quick call to the infirmary.  "What's your status?"

"We're overflowing," she said, deep concern in her voice.  "Everyone here is working just to keep up.  If this holds up much longer, I don't know how we'll treat people."

"Do what you have to.  Use the cafeteria if it comes to that."

"Squall!  Squall!"  Zell's voice tore his attention away, as did the rapidly encroaching red line on the monitor.

"Go, Zell," he replied.

"There's too many of them.  We can't hold the front gate any longer.  If we stay here, we're dead!"  

"Fall back to the lobby," Squall answered without hesitating.  "Keep whatever ground you can, but don't get killed doing it."

"We've got a file from Quistis," Xu said.

Quistis's binoculars had captured an image of the enemy fleet firing the last of its torpedoes at Garden.  The dropships hovered there are moment longer, and then sped off in the distance.  With a sudden, jerking movement, the image refocused on the horizon, at a picture that filled Squall's gut with dread: a second wave of identical ships, all loaded with enemy troops.

"We're going to the Quad," Squall said, leaping up, his chair tipping over in the process.  He grabbed his gunblade on the way out of the room.

*          *

The elevator doors slid open to chaos.  A thousand individual battles played out over and around the stairs as Squall and Xu made their way to the Quad.  Squall growled low in his throat and Lionheart flashed, slicing a path clear through to the next step.  Every step felled another soldier, but the enemy troopers just kept advancing.  Xu, unarmed, followed close behind Squall, grabbing a fallen soldier's weapon as soon as she saw one.

The Quad had not fared any better.  Here, too, the enemies advanced on the Garden, stepping over the bodies of their dead comrades when necessary.  But more than the bodies of their comrades, they stepped on the bodies of SeeDs and SeeD cadets.  The invaders had sheer strength of numbers on their side, and, since they had received reinforcements, faced no danger of exhaustion.

Squall knew what he had to do.  He knew with a cold certainty that sickened him.  As an enemy approached, he ran the man through with Lionheart, then grabbed Xu and pulled her to the side.

"We evacuate."

"What?" she exclaimed.

"Now!" he shouted.

She keyed it into her handlink, the piercing shriek of the retreat alarm drowning out almost everything else in Garden.  The tide of the battle reversed as the SeeDs from the Quad backpedaled into the lobby, meeting up with the group already there.

Squall shook his head as events unfolded around him.  The evacuation plan existed because of Cid, not because he thought the Garden stood vulnerable to invasion.  Somehow, everything took place in slow motion.  Squall watched people fight and die in slow-motion, and watched his Garden fall.  He noticed every detail, knowing he might never see Balamb Garden again.

*          *

"Okay, everyone," Selphie said, speaking to the junior cadets.  "Get ready to leave the library.  Straight to the parking garage, then to your assigned cars.  No one leaves their squads for any reasons, or goes anywhere else.  Understood?"

They all nodded back at her.  She looked at Raijin, who stood by the door.  They'd spent the entire time in the library, pushing the massive bookshelves to cover up the windows and the door, and now their time had come to flee.  After the parking garage, they'd ride by car to Balamb, and then commandeer – hijack, if necessary -- a train, which would take them to Dollet.

"Coming with us, Rinoa?"

"No," Rinoa said, loading her Shooting Star.  "I'm going straight to the hangar."

Selphie nodded.

"You ready, Raijin?" she asked.

"Anyone so much as breathes on these kids and I'll break 'em in half, ya know?"

He opened the door and they all ran as if their lives depended on it.

Because they did.

*          *

By the time Squall and Xu reached the hangar, Quistis had taken up her position in the loading area and started assigning people to their tasks.

"Squad 114," she said, "you're onboard the ship.  Load your gear and sit tight.  Squad 37, reinforce the hallway."

As Squall approached he saw the leader of Squad 37 make some sign of protestation, wondering, no doubt, why his squadron didn't get picked to load onto the ship.  The leader of Squad 37 didn't know what Squall knew – none of its members had made the cut and that when the _Ragnarok _took off, it would do so without them.  

"We need people in the hall.  There are enough cars in the parking garage for everyone, and the _Ragnarok _won't withdraw until everyone's accounted for."

"Here's hoping," Squall muttered under his breath.

Seifer and his security team came rushing into the room, Seifer with a black box in one hand.  He turned to his chief aide, a blonde woman with her hair in a severe chignon, named Eva.  Extending a cord from the box and affixing it to the woman's wrist via a handcuff.

"This is the security matrix," he said.  "The only way anyone gets it off of you is by cutting your hand off at the wrist, and you'd better not survive the fight, because if that happens I will kill you, understood?"  She nodded at the gravity of the charge, taking the box and running to the _Ragnarok._

"Squall!" Xu yelled from across the room, where she had started to help Quistis process squad assignments, "I need to go retrieve the data core!"

Squall looked around the room quickly.  "Take Fujin with you.  Go!"

*          *

Fujin ran over to Xu, her chakram in hand.  Xu knelt down, quickly undoing the clasps on the long case before her.  She opened it and produced her three-pronged spear, Gungnir.

"Let's go."

*          *

"Okay, boys," Irvine said, sauntering back from the loading area, carrying two weapons cases.  "I've got a little treat that I've been saving for a rainy day like this one."

"Hurry it up, cowboy," Zell demanded, "we don't have time for theatrics."

"Feast your eyes on these beauties," Irvine replied, springing the catches and popping the lids at once.

"Are those...?"  Zell stammered.

"They are," Seifer murmured in reply.  "Pulse rifles.  I didn't know we had any."

"Officially, we don't.  I've squirreled them away for a rainy day, and I've been itching for a chance to test them out.  Okay, let's go through the basics.  Pull back the lever here," Irvine pulled back a small lever, almost like the bolt on an antique rifle, "and it opens the chamber.  That's when you insert the pulse ammo."  Here he put in the glowing crystal that powered the weapons.  "Push the lever forward again, and wait for the green light."  As the rifle powered up, the energy meter slowly turned from red to green.  "Just like drivin' a car – green is for 'go.'  Aim, shoot, eject the crystal, repeat. Simple enough?"

Seifer and Zell nodded, and Irvine pressed the weapons on them, shouldering Exeter for himself.

"Good," he said.  "Let's go do some damage."

*          *

Xu and Fujin ran through the main concourse at top speed, avoiding the battles that spread before them.  Xu's handlink summoned the elevator well in advance of their arrival, so they managed not to get caught fighting on the stairs as well.

Thus far, the conflict had not spread to the lower levels.  Still, they ran to the computer room, hoping to complete their mission in as little time as possible.  Their boots pounded across the catwalk, echoing through the massive metal structure.

When they reached the computer room, Xu started working on shutting down the system, a delicate operation requiring input both from her handlink and from a secure terminal.  Fujin worked the terminal while Xu worked on her handlink.  In moments, their efforts succeeded, and the Garden Network shut down.

Xu reached up, turning a handle, and the data core ejected itself from the wall.  Suddenly the door slid open behind them.

"Nice try, ladies," came a mocking voice.

Fujin and Xu whirled around to find a strike team of the troopers in midnight blue, all leveling their Esthar-issue gun/axes at them.  The soldiers filed into the room slowly, and Xu imagined she could see the smiles behind their closed helmets.

"Let's have an easy surrender, so no one has to get shot.  That would be a shame.  Just put the computer-thing back in place, and our boss'll let you live."

The two women nodded, and sprang into action at once.  Fujin flipped Zan down at the ground, where it rolled for a second, before kicking up into the air again, slicing at the lead trooper's weapon, cutting past it, and tearing through his lower jaw.  In one smooth circle, it returned into her hand, and she smiled.

Xu launched herself into the air, powerful legs sending her soaring above the trooper's heads.  They tried to track her with their guns, but she landed behind them before they could turn and lashed out with her spear, thrusting it into their midst.  She whirled around, flooring two more soldiers, before skewering a third.  By this time, Fujin dove into the mix, chakram flailing, cutting down everything in her path.

In the span of a few heartbeats, the strike team lay dead on the floor.  Xu smiled, grabbing the data core again and brushing a strand of hair back with her other hand.

"That was fun," she said.  "Squall's got to let me out of the office more often."

*          *

"This isn't good, Squall.  We're using pulse rifles and we're still barely holding the front line," Irvine said over his headset.

"Hang in there just a little while longer.  Xu and Fujin should be back soon, and then we'll withdraw."

"We'll do what we can."

"Nida, how close are we to liftoff?"

"The ship's almost ready, and we're nearly loaded."

"Good.  Just do what you can to keep it fast."

"Right."

Squall looked around nervously, trying to focus his attention.

"Squall?"  Rinoa's voice came from the side.  Her hand on his arm felt reassuring, somehow.

"What can I do to help?"

"Did you just get here from the library?" he asked.

"No, they had me sitting on the ship, but I couldn't take it anymore.  Give me something to do."

"Go help Quistis with the squad assignments."

"Okay."

Rinoa ran off to help, launching into her duty like everyone else.

Xu and Fujin finally made their way through the doors, Xu carrying the data core, which she stowed on the ship.

"Squall!"  Seifer exclaimed.  "We're losing the hallway here.  What do we do?"

"Pull back at once," Squall answered.  "We're locking down the hangar."

"What?"

"You heard me!  Xu!" he said, switching channels, "Lock down the hangar.  Seal it off from the rest of Garden."

Squall had just sealed the fate of everyone outside the hangar.  He knew he'd left them at the mercy of whatever power now claimed Balamb Garden for its own, and he could do nothing more about it.

Seifer, Zell, and Irvine retreated to within the hangar, as the last of the doors sealed shut, buying them a reprieve.  The noises of battle outside changed to screams and pounding as their friends begged them to reopen the doors.

"Begin the final preparations for departure!" Squall yelled, trying to give orders to anyone who would listen.  He no longer felt like a commander.  At this point, he, like everyone else, could only try to survive.

SeeDs and cadets scrambled aboard the ship, their gear forgotten in their mad dash to safety.  When the dust cleared, only Squall and the First Team remained on the ground, about to board when a grim sound entered the hanger: the screech of an energy saw cutting through metal.

Fujin ran to the door, ignoring the sound.  She lifted her weapon, turning to her friends.

"BOARD."  She said.  "NOW."

"Fujin, no!" Seifer yelled.  He tried to run for her, but Zell held him back.

"DISTRACTION," she answered.

"Fujin!  They'll kill you!" he screamed, voice getting desperate.

She turned to him and smiled, holding a fist in the air.  "POSSE.  ALWAYS."

Then, with her usual determination, she turned to the weakened door and kicked down the remains, throwing herself upon the intruders.  In seconds her form vanished into the hallway.

Seifer broke free from Zell.  "Fujin!" he screamed again, running after her.

"Damn it, Seifer!" Quistis swore.  She gathered a ball of magical energy in her fist and punched at the air, the magic warping space, connecting the force of the punch with Seifer, stunning him momentarily.  "Get him, Zell," she said.

"We can't just leave her behind," Seifer said, weak.

"She's not the only one we're leaving behind today," Quistis answered, putting her hand on Seifer's face as Zell dragged him onboard the ship.

In moments, The Storm had thoroughly breached the hangar, surrounding the _Ragnarok_ and the First Team, standing on the floor of the hangar.

"I want Leonhart and Heartilly," said one of the squad captains.  "After they surrender themselves, we will accept your surrender peaceably and no one will be hurt."

Squall, gunblade drawn, stood back to back with Rinoa.  "I'm Squall Leonhart," he said.  "And I'll surrender to you.  But Rinoa will not.  You won't get anywhere near her."

"That's no good, boy.  We're taking you both.  The boss has plans for you. Both of you."

"What?" Rinoa said, a strange, dangerous edge coming into her voice.

"Enough talk," the man said, gesturing his troops forward.  "She's first priority, then the cub."

"You will not harm her!"  Squall's roared, his voice so startling the attackers that they stopped in their tracks.

The soldiers exchanged frightened looks.  "Then I guess we kill you here," the captain said, regaining his nerve.

"Try it."  Squall and Rinoa spoke as one, and their eyes flashed.  Instantly, Rinoa's angel wings unfurled, magnificent white feathered wings that served as the physical manifestation of her power as a Sorceress.  At the same time, Squall's body up into the air, a brilliant blue beam of lightning passing through his body as it hung there, prostrate.  It emanated from Rinoa and used Squall as a conduit, drawn to him like a human lightning rod.  From Squall, it lanced to the body of every soldier in the room, leaping from man to man, dropping them all onto the floor.  The whole thing lasted only a matter of seconds, and then Squall fell to the ground, only to have Rinoa catch him in her arms, the flutter of white feathers falling to the ground the only reminder of the incident.

"What... was that?" Irvine asked.

"I have no idea," Quistis said, "but let's get the hell out of here."

"What?" Squall asked, stunned, panting, weak and unsure of what had just happened.  "What happened?"

"Come on, Squall," Rinoa coaxed.  "We need to get on the ship."

He nodded and staggered towards the ship, Rinoa supporting his weight.

*          *

They boarded the _Ragnarok _at once and listened as its powerful engines flared, fleeing from the only home many of them had ever known.  The ship turned at once towards Balamb, to rendezvous with the train carrying the junior cadets.

*          *

"I should be the one to do this, Squall," Irvine said, as Squall finished strapping on his safety harness.  "She'd want it to be me."

"No," Squall replied.

"Seifer, you're dead-set on going?"

"Yes."

"Okay, Squall," came Nida's voice, "the train is coming out of the tunnel.  Get ready."

Squall and Seifer stepped up to the cargo bay doors and attached their harnesses to the safety cables.

"Ready," Squall said.

"Ready," Seifer confirmed.

The door opened up, looming before them.  Without hesitation, the two men pitched themselves overboard, hurtling downwards to the train, where Selphie and Raijin had started to crawl out of the roof hatch.

Without a word, Squall extended his arms to Selphie, and she jumped into them.  He snapped a cable around her and gave the signal for the device to retract.  Raijin launched himself at Seifer, causing them to swing back and forth.

"If we survive this," Seifer said through gritted teeth, "you're going on a damn diet."

With both cables retracted, the four stood inside the cargo bay when Nida's voice came over the intercom.

"I need Squall in the cockpit!"

Squall turned and ran, somehow doubting Nida had good news.

*          *

"What's up?" Squall asked, sliding into the co-pilot's seat.

Nida thumped the radar, which indicated a very large blip, closing on the _Ragnarok's_ position with frightening speed.

"Any ideas?"

"Only one," Nida said, "but it's sort of too horrible to contemplate.  The only thing that big, that could be moving that quickly is..."

Suddenly, an enormous shape screamed out from behind a mountain ahead of them: an enormous dragon ship, identical in all respects to the _Ragnarok, _but with black and blood-red as its primary colors.

"Yup," Nida said.  "That's what I was afraid of."

"Unknown ship!" Squall screamed into the microphone, "This is the _Ragnarok!  _Identify yourself!"

"Greetings, _Ragnarok._  This is your sister-ship, the _Apocalypse._"

"This is Squall Leonhart, SeeD Commander.  Who am I speaking to?"

The monitor flipped on, identifying the pilot of the other ship:  General Mallis.

"Surprise, Squall.  Been having a fun day?  I have.  I've been setting it up for a long time."

"What are you talking about?"

Mallis cocked his head back and laughed – not the genial laughter Squall had come to know, but a dangerous, manic laughter.

"That would be the train of junior cadets down there, wouldn't it?" Mallis asked, his eye blazing with unholy fire.

"Mallis!  No!  Nida!  Arm the weapons systems!"

The _Apocalypse _banked, diving low.  In order to reach Esthar, the SeeD train would have to cross a number of bridges.  Squall's heart sank as he foresaw Mallis's actions.

"You're too late, Leonhart!"  Mallis laughed again, enjoying Squall's panic.

"They won't respond!" Nida screamed, banging on the controls.  "They're frozen!  The weapons are frozen!"

Missiles streaked forward from the _Apocalypse_, shattering the bridge moments before the train reached it.  Squall watched in horror as the train of junior cadets plunged to their deaths.

"Damn you, Mallis!  Why?"

Mallis's voice cooled.  "Sins of the father, my boy.  Sins of the father."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Squall," Nida said, "now is not the time for a conversation.  He's acquiring a lock on us with his missiles.  With our weapons frozen, we're sitting ducks."

"IFF, Captain Nomura," Mallis explained, his voice that of a teacher providing a lesson to an errant student.  "Identify: Friend or Foe.  Both our ships are part of the same fleet.  They can't fire on one another unless you have the codes to deactivate the lockout.  I have them.  How 'bout you?"

Mallis let loose a burst of machine-gun fire to illustrate his point.

"Get us out of here, Nida!  Esthar!" Squall said, then, snarling, he turned to Mallis's image in the monitor.  "This isn't over, Mallis, I promise you that."

"Leaving so soon?" Mallis laughed.  "Who knew the boy with the heart of the lion was really a paper tiger?"  Still laughing at his own cleverness, Mallis turned the _Apocalypse_ and headed for Balamb Garden – now his and his alone.

Squall headed back to the cabin.  He passed devastated faces the entire way and knew they'd witnessed Mallis's butchery.  He sat down before Rinoa and placed his head in her lap, closing his eyes, wishing he could sleep for a thousand years, while she stroked his hair.  After some moments, she leaned down and whispered to him.

"They still need you.  You need to lead them."

He stood up, hoping the words would come to him.

"It looks like we lost today.  We had to retreat.  We had to leave people behind.  We had to lose people we cared about.  We had to abandon our Garden.  But it isn't over.

"Balamb Garden is my home.  It always will be.  Nothing that happened today changes that.  I carry that with me wherever I go.  Even now.  

"I want you to remember Garden, and everything it means to you.  Keep that memory close.  Cling to it.  If you do that, what happened today is meaningless, because Balamb Garden will always be with you.

"This isn't the end.  I can promise you.  You'll see your Garden again.  You'll get to go home.  Until then, keep the memory alive, but this isn't the end."

Author's Notes:

Don't own the characters, making no profit, no basis for a suit, blah blah blah.

Special thanks to Scarlet, who inspired me to get started in writing fiction and who's helped me all along the way.

To be continued in "A Question of Honor."

This fic has been revised as of 2/13/04, to clean up some stylistic errors and bring some things into line with the series as a whole.  It's nothing that you'll really notice unless you go looking for it, and I'm much happier with the text overall.


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